


Raygun Gothic

by Genesister (papirini)



Series: Bangs and Thangs [17]
Category: Metropolis (1927), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aesthetic: Art Deco, Aesthetic: Futuristic 1920s, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Cover Art, F/M, Human Experimentation, Identity Swap, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Machines, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, Non-Explicit, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Post-Apocalypse, Pregnancy, Revolution, Riots, Robots, Steampunk, Suicide Attempt, Unethical Experimentation, crossover AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 113,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papirini/pseuds/Genesister
Summary: Keith is the spoiled and bored heir to the last and only city left in the world. Zamyatin is a place of technological wonders, unbelievable luxury, and a rigid sexual caste system-it is the Omegas, the wealthy, intelligent, refined sexual dynamic, who is said to have saved the world from the foolishness of the alphas, that rule with an iron fist among the smooth skyscrapers. Meanwhile, the barbaric alphas, and the otherwise normal but still inferior betas, are menial slaves, disposable lab rats, and helpless playthings for their superiors; they are on the whole confined to the darkness of the machine halls and the Underground. To step beyond what is expected of one’s dynamic is to court death or worse; true love between an alpha and Omega is considered unthinkable.One day Keith unexpectedly finds himself face-to-face with an itinerant alpha preacher, whose kindness and pacifist methods belies the scar on his face, the snow-white hair on his head, and the prosthetic that has replaced his arm. Little does he know that this fateful meeting will trigger a conspiracy that will not only threaten him and this alpha, but the very future of what is left of humanity.Omegaverse AU fusion with the 1927 film Metropolis.
Relationships: Allura/Lance (Voltron), Haggar/Zarkon (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Bangs and Thangs [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1106265
Comments: 18
Kudos: 22
Collections: Black Paladins Bang 2020





	1. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

> My unending thanks to [Lys](https://twitter.com/Kirishims_) for their incredible art. Seriously, I love it. Go check their other stuff out!
> 
> Also many thanks to my beta, L.P. My apologies for giving you something so hefty, but I am so glad that you enjoyed it. I hope everyone else enjoys it, as well. :)

So, last year (at least, as of writing this) I may have written a very long author’s note about Metropolis and Voltron: Legendary Defender, with regards to complete and incomplete stories, for a story called _Mistakes, We’ve Made A Few_. Maybe that was a self-fulfilling prophecy to the fact I’d eventually be writing this story after that happens, but in any case, here we are.

Unsurprisingly, the possibility of there being an alternate ending to Voltron is pretty much dead in the water. What we got is what the writers wanted to give to us, and that’s unfortunate. That said, there is still a surprisingly healthy fandom in certain parts, which also makes me glad. There’s something in that doomed iteration of Voltron that keeps people coming back in some capacity. As someone who enjoys her little corners of the fandom, I am happy that people are still producing fan works for this story.

As for those of you who are coming into this story and balking because, what in the world is Metropolis, I’ll be brief. One of the most influential sci-fi films of all time, it’s a silent film made in the 1920s’, it was drastically edited by various censors around the world, then eventually reconstructed with rediscovered footage thought to be lost forever, and Giorgio Moroder was probably partly responsible for that. (If you want a fuller version of that story, just…go read the first chapter of that other fic I mentioned.)

Also, I happen to be a huge fan and I can’t recommend it enough. Even if you decide you don’t want to read my story, I absolutely suggest checking out the film. It’s very much a window into a style that is often mimicked in some respects but is never fully emulated. Its plot is simple, but its rewatchable as hell and the original score by Gottfried Huppertz is the kind of thing you can just listen to all day. It takes all the good parts of the original serial and brings it to timeless life-which is probably the reason no one even remembers that it was based on a published serial, with some very questionable parts and characters in it that are, to be generous, absolutely products of their time and their author.

In any case, I hope you enjoy this newest story, and in these insane times, never forget to smile, or to live, or to keep creating, no matter where you are or what you make. The mediator of your head and hands will always be your heart.

_-Genesister, aka Papirini_

_5/3/2020_


	2. I

It was the fourteenth quintant of Septober. It had begun as any quintant had for the idle descendants of the rulers of the world–with waiting. For Keith, it had started out as a day like any other. Well, almost like any other.

It was the fourth time that movement that a representative of the Lyceums Metropolitan had made an appointment to meet him in his apartments. Like clockwork, a set of flutes were placed out by the alpha servants and filled with the best wine in the pantry, as was custom, before the meeting had started. Then, as silently as they came in, the servants shuffled off, unbidden and unnoticed. Then, the pitch for his–mainly virile–patronage of the institution in question had begun.

That had been nearly two vargas ago, at least by the grandfather (ha!) clock in the corner of his office. He ran his hands–delicate and soft, the sign of a particularly privileged Omega, one who’d never seen a tick of menial work at any point in his life-through his smooth, straight ebony hair, before bringing them down to his lap, fingers tapping gently against his thigh. Then he leaned back into the back of his plush seat, crossing his legs beneath his cherry wood desk, hoping the sigh coming out of his lips didn’t reach the portly woman with thick-rimmed glasses pacing around his room. So far, she didn’t seem to notice, so caught up in her oratory she was. It was almost as if she enjoyed hearing the sound of her voice as she prattled on.

“…the most important question everyone asks themselves is: what makes the Omega breed so successful over all others? It is the age-old imperative to know the answer, which has plagued mankind even since the beginning of time…since the first ruler of our glorious city…even before…”

At this point he could probably mouth the words to her speech, as it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it, but he at least had the decency to not do that and instead hope his expression looked like he was interested. It was a losing battle. He could feel his lids getting heavy. He knew the answer the woman was going to give to her own pointless question-she’d already been talking for twenty minutes about the biological imperative of Omegas, how their biology allowed them to overcome all, how their specialness gave them the keys to the world. How the world was all for Omegas, Omegas such as the one she was now pitching to. Another sigh couldn’t help but escape his mouth as she just continued talking.

“…the answer, of course, of which we have only grasped in the time of our civilization’s existence, has been right in front of us this entire time.” Her heels echoed as she paced back and forth across the well-treaded, but still immaculately clean and sparkling, wooden floors. “This I’m _certain_ you’re aware of, but it nevertheless cannot be stated enough. The world would fall apart without the biological presence of Omegas, who are _absolutely and without question_ superior to all others. Could you imagine a world where betas were in charge? Or _alphas_? Oh no, that wouldn’t do. Not at all. They do not have the wherewithal to properly run the world. We’ve seen that before and never again! _Never_ again.”

She stopped, turning around towards the young man sitting in the plush chair, hands leaning on head and elbows on the desk. He immediately reacted, eyes widening at the sight of the skunk-like streaks in her hair coming so close to his personal space. He immediately nodded, mumbling something half-hearted that he hoped sounded like affirmation of her lecture. Satisfied she had his undivided attention–and that he was being _so_ agreeable to her visit!–she quickly snapped back to attention and turned on her heel away from him, and towards a large, Gothic-style stained window.

“Ever since the End Tick, Omegas have been the leaders of the world. And your family has been the _leader_ of those leaders.” She could almost feel the lasers boring into her back as Keith impatiently stared at her, then at his watch; she continued anyways. “And preserving that good name involves picking a suitable mate that will let you bear further generations of Omegas. That means not picking some random stranger off the street. Genetic perfection can’t be achieved through meaningless one-night stands or meet-cutes. No–if not with other Omegas, and I do hope you find your best mate!-but if not with an Omega, then it might be found in places where alphas are selectively chosen and lifted up to overcome their baser instincts for the pleasure of cultured individuals like yourself. They must be taught their place; they must be broken down and re-shaped from clay to become something worthy of admiration. That is what the Lyceum Le Roséen does–turns dirt into diamonds! Turns trash into art! And more important, we have done it with _guaranteed_ success.”

With that, she effortlessly slipped a brochure out of her jacket pocket, placing it on the cherry desk in front of the boy. The border was gilded with gold leaf, and the coat of arms of the school was prominent. The coat of arms, too, was lined with gold ink–an almost excessive use of the stuff, in his opinion.

“Do consider us when you decide how to accessorize your sexual future, Master Melanochaitra.” With a simple bow, the lady turned to make her retreat. “You will not regret it. I promise you that much. You just have to broaden your horizons!”

With that, the lady snapped her fingers, and Keith’s butler silently ushered the Provost out; the master was left to attend to his own thoughts as the massive doors closed behind her. Not that it took long for him to decide-after one furtive look at the brochure, he rolled his eyes and tossed it into the garbage.

“Whatever.” Finally, once he was certain that the Provost had left, Keith grabbed his coat and hat, barking to his virtual assistant as its blob-like holographic form flickered into existence nearby. “VAIBO, I’m going to the Parnassus. Time me until 1600.”

“ ** _Confirmed!_** ” The voice chirped as he threw his study doors open. “ _ **Time is set. Reminder: dinner tonight at the Alcázar! Make sure you dress your best!**_ ”

The first rule that Keith learned growing up was that the alpha and beta were inherently inferior to the Omega, and bloodlines that routinely produced Omegas were kings and queens above everyone else in the Ecumenopolis of Zamyatin. Omegas lived above ground in the city proper, while alphas and betas were mostly confined to the Underground, where they lived their quintants out in hard, methodical, but rewarding toil that kept the machines of industry going. It was said by sympathetic journalists that the Underground was dark, the workquintants were long, and the life expectancy wasn’t exactly great for the workers in the least-desired positions. Yet even the sympathizers to the lower biologies would say that life was much better for them than before the End Tick, the seminal world-changing event that had been started by alphas, when they had ruled the world so many centraphoebs ago.

Back in those times, as he learned in academy, there were multiple countries fractured by strife, all of them ordered around by their alpha leaders like disparate packs and taught to distrust and attack one another. Like a game of bluff, the alphas arrogantly tried to dominate one another with more and more weapons-until the Bomba Komar came to be. The Bomba Komar was nicknamed the ‘World Breaker’, to the point where only one was ever made. And indeed, only one was needed to nearly wipe out civilization for good, as simply completing the weapon caused it to meltdown and explode, leaving little more than a massive wasteland of nuclear ruin and wrack. Only several hundred thousand humans were known to survive, and all with the dynamic mutations that everyone since had to live with.

After that, who would trust such creatures who ran their lives-and by extension, everyone else’s-on such base desires? To fuck, to hurt, to kill, to win-alphas only thought of domination, and so any alpha given real power over anything, anything at all, was _dangerous_. That humanity was able to bounce back in any capacity at all after the alphas ruined it all was due to the Omegas and their inherent intelligence and creativity, along with their unique childbearing abilities. So due to this, the alpha didn’t get any power now, and neither did the beta, who only lived to enable the alpha to do their worst-and otherwise did little else unless ordered to.

The second rule was that even among Omegas, his family were the unquestioned rulers of Zamyatin. They were the bloodline that began the Planet-City, that rebuilt society into a much better form a mere two centraphoebs after the End Tick. Once the first version of Zamyatin was completed, its architect, Brodar Melanochaitra, was declared the first Arch-Omega, and it was he who decreed that his descendants would lead the city to the future. And lead they did, all the way down to the current Arch-Omega.

The third rule was that one quintant-as the grandson and heir to the Arch-Omega-Keith would inherit the city and world once they finally passed. In the meantime, though, Keith…had nothing to do. His grandfather was a healthy 152-decaphoeb-old Omega, virile and in the prime of his life-and given the average lifespan of a healthy Omega, Keith, at 22 decaphoebs, wasn’t exactly getting control of the Alcázar anytime soon. He’d already graduated school, and outside of any formal training in the art of ruling that his grandfather might deign to give him from time to time, he was too grand to hold down anything as banal as a _job_.

So Keith did lots of nothing, and waited. It was already shaping up to be a long life of meaningless, endless movements of idle luxury, occasionally leaving his palatial apartment and meandering around the multiple levels of the behemoth metal skyscrapers and the massive residential bio-domes that topped many smaller buildings, all shiny spires that glimmered and changed colors like chameleons based on the sun’s position in the sky. Everything materialistic that the upper levels of Zamyatin could offer, Keith was given with no questions asked, while any real power his grandfather might have given him, any duty that might have helped prep him, the Arch-Omega refused to allow.

He sighed as he leaned back in the backseat of his urbanetic coupe, eyes half-closed as the hovercar streaked down the byway, passing under the Blue Line of the city’s inter-district maglev system. Recently there was more pressure for Keith to do the most important thing any Omega could do-to start sowing his oats, as it were. Even though he wouldn’t be the ruler of the city for a long time yet, he was old enough that his family-and every other Omega family-expected him to start looking for a suitable mate that would be with him for as long as they lived. It was more especially imperative since his parents had died when he was an infant, leaving him with no brothers or sisters; if anything happened to him, the branch of Melanochaitra bloodline that had ruled in an unbroken chain since the dawn of the city’s existence would disappear, leaving a cadre of lesser, cadet house relatives to try and pick up the pieces.

Of course, if he couldn’t find a suitable mate at that moment to bond with him, then a cadre of well-trained, throwaway alphas or even betas brought up from the underground were also acceptable for momentary sexual amusement, to prime him for what he needed to do in the long-term. It was a way to show he was an Omegas like everyone else, capable of having and needing the baser things in life responsibly, while knowing where his true duty and sexual loyalties ultimately lay. Perhaps he would even set about and get pregnant early–or get someone else of a proper station in that condition–so his illustrious bloodline would persist and be even more stable than before. Hence the newest visit from Provost Genesister, and her insistence that he at least start to become more sexually active.

But Keith had already _been_ to that Lyceum-to all the schools designed to make barbaric but handsome alphas presentable for accessorizing, really-and found all the alphas there utterly _boring_. They were just like the servant alphas and betas he and everyone else had for menial tasks (which, of course, alphas were well-suited for). The only difference was that they weren’t chipped to be silent, and the rare conversations the trained companion alphas would have with him when he inspected them were little more than forced sycophancy.

Just like the alphas and betas that would serve people in restaurants and hospitality areas in Level 2. Just like the alpha entertainers that get dragged in on occasion for the aristocracy to fawn over for a dobosh. Just like every other downtrodden underclass alpha and beta Keith had ever been allowed to meet in person or shown on hologram. They weren’t that much different than nearly every Omega he’d met that tried to flatter him. Alphas just happened to be dumb bricks that thought with their pricks, and betas were normal stock with either vagina or cock.

(A classic nursery rhyme, that. _Thus order doth hinge on Omega’s penis and minge._ One of the first he, and every other Omega, memorized from childhood. Hm.)

“ _ **You have arrived at the Parnassus!**_ ” Keith’s VAIBO spoke through the car’s speakers as it slowed to a smooth stop in front of massive bronze doors lined with red. “ _ **I have informed them of your arrival. Please enjoy yourself, and as a reminder: alarm has been set for 1600!**_ ”

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

Keith stepped out of the car as the car doors slid open. Like clockwork, the doors to the club were thrown open and out stepped Dayak, the owner, flanked by two betas who went to grab Keith’s coat and hat. Behind him, Keith could hear his car zip away to the valet area.

“Master Keith! Good afternoon!” Once the betas had done their job, they stepped back silently. After they didn’t move for several moments, Dayak let out a hiss, and the two quickly absconded back through the doors. “Do come into my parlor, relax! I do hope you might find some comfort with my employees this quintant?”

“We’ll see,” Keith said mildly. “I’ve got an official dinner to attend tonight, so I have a few vargas to spare.”

“Oh, and may they be the best vargas of your quintant!” Keith followed as both he and the owner walked through a large atrium. The atrium flared, then curved down into the double doors that led to the club’s main bar area all appointed in gold leaf and red velvet. “Do sit wherever you like! I shall see what free nymphs we have to make your stay more…comfortable, yes? Minga, Lee! The Arch-Omega’s grandson is here!”

Keith’s eyes looked over at the bar, then at the garden that lay just beyond it. Said garden was one of the main attractions of the Parnassus-there were certainly wonderful parks and green areas around the city, but none so exclusive or intimate despite its size. Even with the nymphs and their clients, even with Dayak’s attempts to get her people to cater to him, there were still times when Keith could go the entire time without meeting another person once he got his drink and strolled into the garden areas. He would find a tree or a rock and sit beneath it or find one of the multiple fountains and streams to sit near-wherever it was, it would hopefully be somewhere quiet where he could idly read or simply nod off while watching the plants sway in the gentle, artificially induced wind.

There were some wilder moments, though. The Parnassus’ beautifully curated garden also constantly hosted rare and exotic animals borrowed from the World Zoo to romp with humans. On occasion there was a drunken scuffle with an animal that got someone injured, which, when they happened, was almost always the highlight of Keith’s visits. No sign of any tigers, though. Or, much more to his disappointment, hippos.

“Welcome, Master Keith.” The bartender didn’t look at Keith’s face as his hands went to the tap. “The usual?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Keith’s eyes trailed over again to the garden area, frowning as he sat. As he scanned the area, he alighted on the main fountain, where other boys and girls of the upper classes chased and frolicked after those less-fortunate, less-dressed Omegas who were what the club’s owner charitably called ‘nymphs’ while they inadvertently scared off the swans. The less charitable would call them sex workers. Not that many people saw sex work as particularly taboo-as long as it was done in a civilized and safe manner, as an Omega ought to have done anyways, no one batted an eyebrow.

Indeed, when it came to safe sex, the Parnassus was a gentleman’s club of the highest caliber, with a zero percent rate of accidental pregnancy, and the best selection of lower-class Omega men and women from around the city to cater to the powers that be and their families. Those lucky enough to get a job at the Parnassus would be in a good social position-many of those being frolicked after stood a good chance of becoming a rich Omega’s long-term concubine, should they become a customer’s favorite. On a rare occasion, one might even hear about a customer giving their nymph a happily ever after by marrying them.

A customer like Keith, who could feel someone sliding into the seat next to him as the bartender gently placed his usual-Coran-Cola with a single dash of adelhyde-in front of him.

“Come here often?” The woman next to him smiled beneath bright pink and yellow-striped hair. “I think you do. You up for a companion while you drink?”

“…No.” Keith scoffed as he took a sip. “I come here for the scenery.”

Though he sounded sarcastic, it wasn’t untrue. He was just hoping this woman would go away. Not surprisingly, she didn’t.

“Oh?” The woman was wearing a black see-through shirt, nipples perky and pink. Her dress wasn’t much better, nor were her predictable pick-up lines. “And me?”

“Nope.”

The woman opened her mouth, and Keith hoped against hope that she would insult him. Or say she would leave him alone. Or do anything to indicate that she wasn’t going to try and pick him up, which would inevitably fail, because he wasn’t there for her or anyone else. Whatever she said or did, he intended to pick his drink up and walk away right after, into the garden, away from everyone and everything.

Any thoughts as to what he would do-and anything that the woman might have said-died when the doors to the Parnassus swung open-and the sound of screams started echoing through the air.

“What the-”

“Oh my-!?”

Everyone who was near the entrance-including several couples who had begun stripping their clothing off and making out-instantly stopped and looked over to see who was entering. Keith’s own head whipped over, just in time to see it.

No-to see _them_. The children, all decked out in khakis with their city-issued designations sewn on the front. The clothing-all of which denoted future Underground factory workers-were covered in soot and lime; on their feet were worn out shoes that were two sizes too small. They had been making noise before, but now, they were silent, with their eyes wide, their mouths open, and their cheeks flushed. There were at least a dozen of them, all of them dressed the same, all of them looking around the place-and especially at the garden-with a wonder that Keith was shocked to see worn on such faces.

Alphas weren’t exactly known for _wondering_ , after all.

“Are those-”

“They _are_! My _stars_ …!”

Accordingly, nearly every Omega in the vicinity began to draw back, revolted by the sight, even as they slowly proceeded towards the garden. The children didn’t run, or act up, or do anything remotely threatening towards anyone, but the nymphs and their paying customers reacted as if the little things were radioactive.

“Oh…” Even the woman sitting next to Keith sat up and skittered backwards, which Keith was secretly happy about since it meant she was moving away from him. “Those are…alpha _children_. From the _Underground_. How _hideous_!”

Then, more Omegas began to shout.

“This is inexcusable!”

“Why are they here?!”

“Who let those little cretins in!?”

“Little brats! Get out of here!”

“Trespassers! Dirty little-!”

“Someone call the police…!”

Some of the children began to retreat towards the entrance at the verbal abuse being thrown at them. And that was when Keith’s eyes alighted on what was right behind the children. On _who_ was behind them.

A man.

“Some…one…?”

Even though he was only just coming through the entrance, there was no doubt that _he_ was the one who brought the children to the Parnassus. The children who weren’t looking at the garden looked back over to him, and soon enough, he stepped forward. As he did, nearly every Omega fell silent at the sight.

And Keith? He couldn’t help but _stare_.

“It’s all right, everyone. We won’t be here long.”

He was _absolutely_ an alpha-his sheer visual physicality alone gave away his dynamic. He was practically an Adonis of a man, chiseled beneath a simple factory turtleneck, the kind that any Omega would claw one another over to buy and doll up. Yet the moment Keith saw him, he knew that whatever could be said about an alpha would be a lie when it came to _this_ specimen. It wasn’t his muscles that had caught his attention, anyways.

It was the eyes, set above a high nose bridge that was itself covered by a deep, horizontal scar which spread nearly the length of his face. They were a deep and clear grey, and they held in them a life and personality that Keith had never seen before in any of the alphas he’d seen. And in the moment those eyes met Keith’s, there was a mirth that filled them, a happiness and kindness-and dare he say _boldness_?-that seemed to greet Keith. The smile that had been on his face seemed to brighten, just a little, as he and Keith looked at one another, even though it was just for a second.

Keith was tempted to say something, to greet this stranger alpha in order to see what he might say. Before he could say anything, the man spoke again, and Keith got to see the bangs of white that fell into his face as he looked down at the children. In fact, his whole head of hair was white as snow, yet the man himself didn’t seem much older than Keith. Nor, Keith realized, did he have anything sewn into his clothing-no designation, no name.

“Now, look here, kids.” A gentle smile played on his lips as he did so, and once more he looked up at Keith. Oh, he could feel his cheeks start to redden. “This is a garden. It’s not public like the others, but you can meet other people here, too. People like you. See? That over there is the Fountain of Aganippe, and sometimes they have unusual animals here, too.”

“This place has grass, too! Real grass!” One of the children spoke as they pointed, and soon all the little alphas were chirping. “And—can we drink the water here, Mr. Shiro? It looks so clean in that pool…”

“Look how the sunshine comes in and hits the stones and glass, Mr. Shiro! How pretty!”

“So you think we’ll see a lion? Or a peacock, Mr. Shiro, like you told us?”

“Birds! I can see a big white bird, Mr. Shiro! What’s it called?”

“Betas can come here too, one day, right?”

“Those guys are naked! Can I take my clothes off too, Mr. Shiro?”

The man-Mr. Shiro? Mr. Shiro seemed like a nice name for such a seemingly nice man and oh no, Keith could feel his cheeks grow _hot_ -laughed at the last one, shaking his head. He pat one of the kids on the shoulder-and Keith saw that his right arm was, in fact, a prosthetic. A very advanced one, in fact, one far too advanced to be given to any mere factory alpha.

“ ** _YOU!_** ” Oh, there was Dayak, and Keith’s heart sank a little. The handsome alpha didn’t stand a chance against her; her orders were given in such a way that made it sacrosanct, impossible for non-Omegas to resist. The bullwhip she drew from her belt enforced the inevitable. “What the quiznak are _you_ doing here!? This establishment is forbidden to the likes of you and this… _filth_! You have five ticks before-”

To Keith’s shock-and Dayak’s, judging by her expression-the white-haired alpha simply let out a mirthful laugh as he turned to face her. Keith’s own eyes widened as he saw a flash of defiance cross his face, even as he gave the Parnassus owner a practiced, respectful smile.

“Don’t worry. I’m just giving the Underground children a tour of their city! We won’t be here for long.” Mr. Shiro looked over to the children, who all looked ready to run into the garden and never come back out. “It looks like we will need to move on again, everyone.”

A sad, pitiful ‘awww’ rose from the children, and Keith had to agree. Not simply because of the loss of going into the garden, but also, because it meant that he wouldn’t get to see the alpha or talk to him, get to know him, bring him home-

Was it getting hot in there or was it just him? He looked to see all of the pale, horrified faces of his fellow Omegas. Oh god, it _was_ just him.

“Maybe we can get a bite to eat at one of the automats before we get back before shift change, huh?” Any child who was sad about not getting to play in the grass immediately lit up at the prospect of food. “I know a great one near the Orpheum Circuit. How about that? One more hurrah before we go back down?”

“ _YEEEEEAAAH!_ ”

The children were back to screaming and clapping and being generally excitable. Dayak let out another hiss and brought her bullwhip to the wall, as if it could silence them, but apparently, being in the vicinity of Mr. Shiro made them impervious to anything the Omega could have threatened to do to them. Instead, Shiro looked over at Dayak with a little smirk as the children filed out through the entrance.

“Ok, come on, stick with me…there we go.” Shiro tilted his head as he regarded her one last time, eyebrows drawn even while the smile stayed on his face. “Madame Dayak. Thank you for hosting us all so kindly, even for such a brief time.”

As Dayak sputtered at this, Mr. Shiro swept his eye over the Parnassus one last time. Once more, his eyes met Keith’s. Once more, there was that sparkle of life in his eyes. Once more Keith felt his cheeks go red, and this time, just before he turned his head and strolled through the doors and out into the city-

Mr. Shiro even had the audacity to _wink_ at him.

Keith’s heart exploded at the sight, just as the double doors slammed behind the alpha with a _clang_. He’d never felt such a sensation before in his entire life. For the first time, there was nothing else in the world for him in that moment, save for that man, that face, that body. He could feel the fluttering in his stomach, the pounding inside his chest, the shaking of his fingers and the warmth in his cheeks at the mere thought of the stranger, him and his beautiful alpha self–

“Oh, Master Keith!” The next thing he knew, Dayak had run over to where he sat, and was frantically patting his shoulder to gain his attention. “Please forgive me! I can’t believe such awful creatures would dare disturb you or anyone else! Oh, don’t have your grandfather close my establishment for this oversight-!”

Keith blinked, then shook his head. He’d been thinking about that mischievous smile, and those beautiful eyes. The wink. He gave a sputter, then licked his suddenly-dry lips.

“No no, that, uh.” Why was his throat so dry? Did he need some more Coran-Cola? “That was different. Not a bad differe-”

“Oh, thank goodness.” At this, Dayak snapped her fingers. “Ellonia, call the police and tell them what happened here! Ah, I do hope the Ministry arrests them all and puts them back in their place! Especially _him_! That _animal_ , coming in here and letting those little _monsters_ loose…”

 _Mr. Shiro._ Keith felt himself bristle. _Not an animal._

“Just acting like he’s been here before…” Now Dayak was grumbling to herself. “Like…hm.”

“Like what?” Keith leaned in. “Do you know him, madame? Who is he?”

“I…” The madame faltered. “I can’t…say. I’m certain I’ve seen him before, but…oh, it’s probably just because he looks like he belongs to someone I knew once. If so, I hope that person has the presence of mind to get rid of that nuisance if the Ministry doesn’t first!”

“I…”

Keith wasn’t so sure he wanted that. The idea of hurting that man suddenly made him feel off. Especially if the Ministry of Order did it-he’d heard stories about just how efficient their deterrence policies were. Fantastical ones, to be sure, but it was enough to not make him want to know any more. It was enough to know that soon enough, the authorities would be pursuing Mr. Shiro.

Now, on the other hand, if it was _Keith_ pursuing that white-haired man…

“Master Keith, are you all right?” Dayak’s hands grabbed his shoulders. “You’ve gone flush. That alpha must have frightened you so! Can I get you some brandy? Do I need to fire someone for inconveniencing you?!”

“Er-no, I…there’s no need to release anyone from their jobs.” This was getting a little too awkward and he doubted Dayak would want to hear him express concern for Mr. Shiro. “VAIBO, what time is it?”

“ _ **It is 1432, Master Keith!**_ ”

“Right, I need to go.” Quickly he stood up, adjusting his vest and hoping that Dayak didn’t catch the slight erection he was having. “See you later!”

And with that he was running out the entrance, letting out a squeak of embarrassment.

* * *

Keith hated dinners at the Alcázar.

Well, _hate_ was a strong word. Hate implied that the dinners engendered unmitigated rage, when in truth all Keith normally felt was occasional annoyance-and every other time he felt sheer boredom. It was always the same group of people who made up the immediate family, all of them invited by his grandmother, alongside their guests and alpha accessories, the same inane conversations about how their business output had increased or who they were fucking on the side, who was pregnant this time in certain couples, and almost always the same top-notch food in the massive Baroque dining room set aside for such functions as most people proceeded to ignore his existence.

Not that Keith minded the food-or at least he wouldn’t, if the _menu_ ever changed. But every time, it was cream of yalmor soup with cheese biscuits, followed by cutlets of reindeer smothered in artichoke cream and a salad peppered with apples and a carambola sauce. Dinner was rare minced dolphin a la Altea with mint champagne sauce, accompanied by black beluga caviar on Olkari mash and braised lamb sweetbreads. Dessert was chocolate praline ice cream with a large dab of biscuit-crusted chocolate pudding.

All of it made up the Arch-Omega’s favorite meal, and all of it was sourced from the Arch-Omega’s private reserves and supplies of food and animals. Not that the Arch-Omega was there-he was too busy to attend. Indeed, the amount of times that his grandfather had ever deigned to eat at the table with his guests during Keith’s lifetime could be counted on one hand. So as always, his massive seat at the head of the table was empty; when a course began, his grandmother would ring a bell, and his meal was whisked away to Central Command-the head of the Alcázar, the center of the city, and where the true work of running the world happened.

Keith picked at his food, the discussions flying over his head. At least at first. Then came the third round of alcohol, for those who partook of it.

“Did you hear?” Next to him, Merla-heir to Falacorps.-leaned over and whispered to Acxa-owner of the city’s Orpheum Circuit. “About the alpha children.”

Keith’s ears perked up, and he nearly spit his drink out. Next to him, Antok–co-owner of MarmorInc. alongside his husband–looked over and gave Keith a disapproving frown at his behavior. Letting out a cough, Keith looked over at him, then looked away from the rather intimidating glare. Of course he was being scrutinized, even though Antok was one to talk, what with his soup slurping and his elbows landing perpetually on the table.

“Oh, indeed.” Axca’s voice was low. “And I saw _him_. The one leading them around like his personal army, I mean. He came to my theater down on 8th and Claire. All of them eating in _my_ lobby like they owned it!”

“Oh, I hope he’s in the custody of the Ministry now…!”

“I went to call the police, but he and his mob disappeared before they arrived.” Axca sullenly downed her drink. “But I was able to give a description of the alpha man. He’s hard to forget.”

“Indeed, I bet!” Merla gasped. “Such bravery you have, Axca! Those children surely would have killed you if given the chance!”

The idea of any of those children-kids who were wowed by _grass_ , of all things-killing anyone made Keith want to laugh. He almost did. He settled for clearing his throat behind his napkin.

“You know, though.” Axca’s next words gave Keith pause. “I do feel like I’ve seen that alpha before, but quiznak if I can pinpoint where.”

“Really?...”

Keith looked down at his plate. It looked like Mr. Shiro wasn’t just making Dayak do a doubletake about his identity. Maybe he’d been in their company before, though the fact he’d never seen the alpha himself before that moment seemed strange. Then again, he didn’t necessarily run in all the same social circles as everyone else; outside of the Alcázar dinners, he generally only attended a fraction of the countless social functions offered up by his position, and only then it was when he felt like going.

“Keith?” He was brought out of his thoughts by Merla. “Weren’t _you_ at the Parnassus? That’s one of the places where those children were during the past quintant…”

Keith blinked, then sucked in a breath. Of course, he couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen. Too many eyes had seen him there, and of course his VAIBO had recorded his visit there.

“Y-yeah, I was there. I saw the alpha kids, and…uh, the man who brought them there.” There were gasps around the table and silver clinking against porcelain as it was dropped. “But nothing happened! He was there, he talked to the kids about the place…then they left, after Dayak yelled at them. That was it.”

“'That was it'?” Axca frowned. “Keith, you were face to face with an alpha that was breaking every single possible law that an alpha could possibly break.”

“And flaunting those dirty little ragamuffins while he was at it,” Antok mumbled as he downed his drink. “No doubt all of them were his spawn–such is the uncontrollable nature of alphas. They ought to strengthen the breeding limit laws if he can get away with that kind of activity for so long.”

“Mr. Marmora is right!” Axca pounded her fist on the table. “The fact he didn’t try to ravish you on top of all of that is a miracle!”

At this, the table erupted into loud talking.

“Axca, did you really have to-”

“If this one alpha can do all that, what’s next?”

“When should we ask about the Ministry of Order’s response-”

“You don’t suppose that alpha belonged to one of _us_ once-”

“Oh no! What would happen to us if such a thing were true!”

“What will the Arch-Omega do?!”

Keith stopped listening at that point.

“I’m full. Excuse me.”

Ripping the napkin out of his collar, he stood up and walked away; his grandmother simply waved him off, laughing and dismissing the worry as utter nonsense and opining how he _really_ should think before speaking. Before he left, he stopped at one of the silent alpha door footmen as they automatically opened the doors for him.

“Please relay my regards for the dinner to my grandfather.”

They didn’t respond. They didn’t even look at him. Not like Mr. Shiro had.

After a moment of waiting, Keith steeled his shoulders and left the room, along with the dinner guests to their excited chatter. Instead, he decided to spend his time that evening looking for Mr. Shiro. Was it stupid? Probably. Insane? Absolutely. Did he really understand why he was doing it? Maybe not. It was probably his hormones making him want to find the alpha and little else, as opposed to any real reasoning.

Still. He was the Arch-Omega’s heir, and the one that the children called Mr. Shiro seemed so kind and amusing and _alive_ , nothing at all like how the alphas he’d experienced before had generally acted. Keith reasons that he could at least try and save the white-haired man from his own innate alpha arrogance through intervening with his grandfather. If nothing else, he could at least warn the alpha of the inevitable Ministry crackdown. Someone had to know him; he had such a unique look, after all. 

But in order to do that, Keith would have to actually find him. And the city was nothing if not big. He did have one clue, though-the children Mr. Shiro had with him. They wore factory clothing and had designations indicating that, in the future, they would be assigned to one of the massive machines of industry that kept the city going. So, first things first, he went to the first building he could find that had access to the machines. It was easy enough-the multiple buildings that accessed the machines were generally smaller than most skyscrapers. It was unadorned and with no style to them, no inviting architecture. They were nothing but upper city housing for the machines below.

The machines. His mind ruminated on them as he breezed past any security that might have stopped him. Whether it was producing electricity, or assuring that VAIBOs continued to function, or making the steel that plated the skyscrapers, or pumping the water that gave the city its drinking supply, or stamping the vials of food pills that alphas and betas were given to eat (for they were not deserving of real food, no like Omegas), it was done by machines in the Underground's factories. All that, all the big things, and everything else that could be put in an assembly line or be mechanized for the good of the city’s survival. Even making the nuts and bolts for the machines had a machine to make them.

He’d never personally seen the factory buildings up close like this, much less the actual machines, that the alphas and betas were made to work, but he had been told their worth to the city, and even before then knew that they were unquestionably important. As he got onto the elevator and plunged downwards, stomach in throat, Keith couldn’t deny that he was a little bit excited. His grandfather generally didn’t allow him any leeway in overseeing anything, and here he was, doing what he wanted, and now he would get to see the city’s machinery in action.

After what seemed like an eternity, the elevator doors slid open, and Keith was plunged into heat and smoke. He coughed as he tried to wave the smoke away, only to find that the smoke was everywhere in the massive room. Keith’s eyes began to water more than it did in any cigar club he’d stumbled on. After just a moment, it was getting harder for him to breathe.

“H…hello?” he gasped. “Hello…”

Figures streamed past him, two-by-two, walking in almost rhythmic time as they carried vats of glowing gold quintessence. Quintessence, the lifeblood of every machine, and quintessence that was refined gold was meant to encourage turbine magnetism, which resulted in electricity. Then, he reasoned, this was the E-Machine he came upon. Beyond them, like a curtain drawn in a room, the smoke finally began to recede, and the E-Machine itself was unveiled.

It was nothing like Keith had ever seen before. It was like seeing the torso of a sleeping giant, a purple Titan, a headless golem, with hundreds of tiny ants marching everywhere to appease it. All around it, factory alphas and betas-but mostly alphas-were turning knobs and pulled levers, all like clockwork, all in sync. No one looked at one another. No one talked. There was only the toil and the smoke and the stench of liquid quintessence burning in the E-Machine’s vats.

Out of the corner of his eye, though, Keith saw flame.

“Help!” He could hear someone cry out. Their voice was raw, dry, parched. “The heat is getting too high! We can't control the temperature of the quintessence with our current water outflow! Emergency! _Someone, help_!”

He turned his head in time to see someone, up on a small ledge near a set of E-Machine rotors, collapse near a panel that was blinking red. Even though they clearly couldn’t get back up, they tried. They tried to drag themselves back up using a lead pipe, but Keith could see the bloody calluses on their hands, the blackness under their eyes as they looked up in panicked desperation at the large, blinking red light.

Keith took a step towards the ledge, to try and get over there to see if he could help. He saw the red light flash once, then twice, before an ear-piercing siren began to blare. Then, he saw the flames shoot up from the center of the machine, right above where the majority of the workers were turning those knobs.

His eyes widened as he began to gear up for running. He may not have seen what the factories looked like, but he knew what a quintessence overload looked like.

“EVERYONE!” He started shouting towards the workers manning the knobs even as his feet pounded towards the collapsed lever worker. “ _EVACUATE!_ THE MACHINE IS GOING TO BLOW!!”

None of them responded. None of them moved.

“ ** _EVACUA-_ **”

All of them disappeared abruptly when the flames licked over the side-and the quintessence tank that was causing the overload exploded in a fantastic golden light, sending the liquid mana upwards like a volcano.

_Boom._

Keith didn’t even have time to react-he was blown back several yards by the shock wave, slamming into the wall nearest to him as heat filled the entire area. Like paper he crumpled to the ground, his body temporarily forgetting it worked from all the pain that shot through it.

He didn’t break anything, at least he didn’t think he did. He didn’t lose consciousness, either. But he wished he had.

There were screams everywhere as he lay on the floor, stunned from his own impact. Body parts-not all of them attached to an actual body, and some of them on fire-fell like meteors onto the ground. Actual full bodies writhed around, on the machines, on the ground, thrashing in agony as glowing, super-heated quintessence ate them from the outside inward. Many other bodies didn’t move at all as smoke and blood shrouded them. Hunks of metal and shards of glass rained down along with dust, plunging everything into a gray mist all around him.

His eyes flickered over to where the figure by the rotors had been. Though Keith had been running towards their position, had wanted to help, he’d been lucky. He had still been far enough away that he wasn’t burnt, wasn’t so injured that he couldn’t walk away. The person he’d tried to save, though, was almost gone. Almost.

Their arm, burnt and peeling and blistering from the glowing quintessence that it had absorbed, still clung to the now partly melted lead pipe.

Keith’s breath picked up at the sight of his failure. Above it all, the E-Machine still stood as the flames died down, the suppression systems having kicked in to douse them. Soon, a group of workers began to walk in through the smoke, amidst a new set of shouting.

“Quiznaking alpha idiots! Lazy to the end, and now we’ll need to replace tank one to boot!” A pea whistle blew through the air. “Turn off access to that tank and get these incompetents out of here! Now, _now, NOW! MOVE IT!_ ”

Another group, so soon after the accident. No one noticed Keith as the alphas and betas now on the floor began to move into place. Some set about sweeping away the body parts of the dead and the shattered remains of the exploding tank. Others began dragging away those who were still alive to…well, Keith wasn’t sure. Was there even a doctor in the building? He didn’t know.

It was what the majority of the newcomers did, though, that made Keith’s blood run cold.

“Get up, get over there! Our output is now behind schedule! You’re all working double-time to keep up, starting now!” More pea whistles. “Move now or I’ll put you all through Voltron!”

 _Voltron_. The machine that was the true heart of the city. The machine that refined all quintessence used by every major machine in Zamyatin. It was said that everything had quintessence, and the Processing of quintessence into something consumable was said to be very dangerous. If someone ended up being sucked into the machine’s assembly line, they would end up as little more than a puddle of their own essence by the time Voltron spat them out. No body, no warning.

But-no. That couldn’t be. That was something an _alpha_ would do to others. Omegas would never be so callous to disregard that dozens of people just… _died_ , horribly, right there in front of them, only to threaten survivors with that kind of fate, for…what? Not going fast enough?

And yet here he was, watching as the majority of the factory alphas and betas brought simply went back up to the E-Machine, climbed up to the posts of their predecessors-some of the work stalls still caked with blood and burnt skin-and, with heads down, resumed the work of maintaining the machine in silence.

The machines of industry. The ones that were supposed to serve _everyone_. To make people’s lives better. For the common good.

Keith slowly stood up, eyes wide. His heart was pounding, and his hands were shaking. He’d never seen anything so horrible, so base, so evil. Now that he had, though, he had to do _something_. There was something that was just _wrong_ about all of this, and while he didn’t know how to fix it, he knew that if he didn’t do something right then and there, it would happen again.

So he hit on his best hope and finally gathered the wherewithal to dash back into the elevator and return to the surface. The air up in the city was so clean compared to the Underground, and he sucked as much as he could in as he staggered to his car.

“VAIBO!” he managed as he fell into his seat. “Take me to the Alcázar, now!”

His hovercar surged forth without hesitation as Keith shivered, the memory of what he’d seen burning into his mind like the quintessence had burned so many of those poor alphas and betas. He had to let his grandfather know. He was the Arch-Omega. If there was a problem, it was he who solved it. And this? This was more than a problem; it was a crisis waiting to happen.

Keith didn’t even bother stopping as he burst through the double set of bonded steel atrium doors before he went into the giant, diamond-framed elevator and jammed the single, giant purple button on the panel. Instantly he was shot up to the very top floor, all the way to the most important place in the world-the Central Command.


	3. II

It was said that once, a long time ago, religion had been a part of the world. Then the World Breaker was dropped, and the old religions vanished, alongside their churches and their doctrines. On the ruins of the old church that extolled the nonexistent gods of the æther was built the church of industry, the Alcázar, with the religion being the worship of the intersex gods of the mortal world, the Omegas. Like ancient gods of old who held up the pillars of a pantheon, it was the great marble statues of Arch-Omegas past which bordered the building, each supported by a decorative pillar that transformed into a spike, a disk of white quintessence keeping it hovering over the street intersections and Levels below.

If Voltron was the heart of the city of Zamyatin, Central Command was surely the brain, with the Alcázar as its spine, and the one that ran the brain from on high was the Arch-Omega. Automatic windows could open up to show the entirety of the city, which the Central Command could see from its vantage point thousands of feet above even the highest skyscraper. Few were allowed into Central Command aside from him; even fewer felt they actually had the right to enter, even when given permission. However, Keith wasn’t worried. This was his grandfather. They were family. If the Arch-Omega would allow anyone in at that time of the night cycle, it was his grandson.

Soon enough the elevator slid open and Keith was immediately plunged into violent violet light. All the windows were closed, and so all of the lights within were more glaring in the darkness. All lighting was purple, a fluorescent line placed every five paces and lining the bottom of the domed ceiling. Holographic screens filled in the rest of the wall and ceiling of the massive room, with numbers, names, alpha biochip statuses, and city maps everywhere flashing constantly, as a half-dozen assistants, nicknamed computers for their supposed genius intellects, hurriedly downloaded and processed all of the information that was coming in from various city districts. One of the seats was empty, but that didn’t matter anyways to Keith.

In the center was a massive, circular desk, and sitting in the sleek, rotating black throne was the Arch-Omega himself.

“…Grandfather!”

“ _Keith_.” At that word, Keith couldn’t help but stop ten paces. The way the Arch-Omega spoke, even sitting down, was always with such an authoritative air that the idea of defying it felt wrong. “ _What_ are you doing here?”

Then, the man himself slowly stood up, and turned to face Keith. Violet eyes bright enough to be maroon-if not outright red-fixed themselves onto Keith. Without betraying any emotion on his face, he fully straightened himself to his full, massive height of seven-foot-two, adjusting his immaculate Tyrian purple suit jacket and dark purple tie before he left his desk. Dark eyebrows furrowed beneath slicked back grey hair as his giant hands folded behind his back and he came within five paces, eyes never once leaving the boy Omega. Every movement was deliberate, calculated, designed to enhance the Arch-Omega’s superiority to everyone else-even his own blood.

It was no wonder Keith was constantly compared to his grandfather-how he didn’t look like him at all, how he didn’t yet inspire the same awe, how some wondered how the city might survive in the event the Arch-Omega would suddenly be at the end of his life, if Keith was the one who was next. It was no wonder that Keith constantly wondered that point from time to time, especially given how he had no experience in leading an entire city, much less run a marathon. It was no wonder that Keith’s heart was hammering in his chest, even as he took a deep breath to keep himself calm.

“Grandfather, there’s…there’s been an accident.” Keith could feel himself walk forward, his arm stretched out to grab his elder’s arm. “I was there, and the E-Machine…there was a tank explosion, and dozens of alphas were killed, vaporized by quintessence, and-”

“Arch-Omega Zarkon!”

The older man’s head whipped over towards the elevator. Out came one of his computers, a rather solid, if not portly man around Keith's age, with dark skin and a three-piece suit. His hair was also slicked back, just like Zarkon’s, though his was a darker brown.

Oh, Keith’s eyes widened as memories of academy came to mind of a younger, slightly pudgier boy with a sick stomach. Oh, how he _always_ threw up after his car drove him to school. Hunk, wasn't it?

“I have a plant accident to report, sir!” Hunk instantly saluted. “There was an overheating situation-”

“At the E-Machine.” Zarkon’s growling interruption stopped the assistant cold. “My grandson told me already, _despite_ factory conditions and accident monitoring being _your_ job. Tell me, Mr. Garrett. Why is that?”

“I…I-I…!” Hunk began to stammer, eyes wide. “I only just got the call-”

“ _That_ is no excuse. Not for an Omega in my Command Center.” Zarkon waved him away. “Get back to your station and process that information for me properly. _Now_.”

Hunk-like most people-didn’t need to be told twice. Instantly, he was back to his desk, typing furiously with a whimper.

“Grandfather, listen, it was…it _is_ bad!” Keith took the ensuing silence to continue. He kept hold of his grandfather’s sleeve as he talked. “I was…I was looking for someone in the E-Machine facility, someone I wanted to talk to. Someone I wanted to learn more from.”

He couldn’t outright say who. Given how the white-haired man had trespassed and how everyone else had reacted, it had been a forbidden exchange to begin with. If he said who it was he had talked to, and someone figured out where he worked, he would be sought after and arrested. Then Keith knew it was possible he might never see Mr. Shiro again.

“I ended up in front of the machine itself, and it just…dozens of people!” He quickly continued. “The person trying to stop the overheating looked so overworked, and then they and everyone else all died, then and there, and then…then they just… cleaned everyone up like scores of people _didn’t_ just get killed…!”

His grandfather let out a huff as he looked over at one of the holographic screens on the walls. Keith’s grip on his jacket tightened.

“You were down in the machine areas just now…”

“ _Yes_! And I saw it all and what happened next! The overseer threatened to have the next shift cleaning up the accident _Processed_ through Voltron! Processed into quintessence like…like junk!” Keith shut his eyes, gritting his teeth. “Like _trash_! And those people did nothing wrong-if anything, they were overworked! Grandfather, you need to find out who that overseer was and…and punish him!”

There was silence, and for a moment, Keith felt his grandfather’s tension release, and he closed his eyes. For the moment, it seemed like his grandfather had listened, and would do something about it.

“Oh, Keith.”

A large hand clasped around his.

“They are _just_ alphas and betas; there are always more to be had among their lot.”

And just like that, Keith’s grandfather carefully unlatched Keith from his immaculate jacket. Keith staggered back at the blunt, definite gesture, eyes wide.

“Grandfather-” The Arch-Omega wasn’t even looking at him now. He was going over to one of the computers, looking over their shoulder at calculations regarding film and culture ideals. “Grandfather, it’s…what do you mean? They’re _people_ too! _Your_ people, like us Omegas! They can be like us…”

“Like us Omegas. Are they now?”

“Even though they live in the Underground, they live here in the city, too!” This wasn’t how Keith imagined the conversation would go. He thought his grandfather would do something, not just shrug it off as easily as one shrugged off a coat. “Don’t you care?”

“They are hardly worth worrying over when they are the cause of their own fall and demise. After all, this is hardly the first time their incompetence over simple tasks caused problems. It’s an irritant, to be sure, but it can’t be helped when it comes to that lot.” Zarkon began looking over the numbers with another one of his assistants with narrow eyes. “In any case, what I care about is the welfare of those who _truly_ contribute to society-and the welfare of the city that they live in. Lower the GAC rate on those third-movement run films to up their attendance.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You see, Keith, you are young, still, Keith. Young and naïve.” His grandfather waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever compassion you are feeling towards those creatures is a phase, a fancy. It will pass as all things do when one is in the spring of their lives. Increase allowances to the supply of red bean and duck egg for the Mooncake Festival in Asiantown.”

“…No.” Keith’s stomach plunged. “No, Grandfather, you’re not _listening_ , I saw…there was…there was fear and wonder and…they’re not just…alphas and betas, they can’t just be their dynamics, they’re like us! They should be allowed to take breaks, or see grass and the sun, or eat real food or _smile_ like-”

“They are _nothing_ like us. Their dynamics have shown it before and will continue to show that there is only one place that anyone is safe from them: beneath us, in all ways, used as we will them to be.” Zarkon’s voice sharpened as he went to the next computer’s console. “The sooner you learn and accept this, the better for when it is time for you to take over, which with luck shall be in the far future yet. Really, your father accepted this far more quickly than you seem to be when he still lived.”

His father. Ah, his grandfather rarely spoke of him, except to compare how apparently _exemplary_ he was in comparison to Keith. Slowly, his fists clenched at the insult.

“But you can’t-” Keith’s breath came out fast. “You can’t just _do_ that to people. You can’t keep treating them like animals! It’s…it’s wr-”

“E _nough_ , Keith.” Now his grandparent’s tone was low, a sign that if Keith spoke further there would be trouble. “If there is nothing else you need to tell me, then it is best you leave. Go back home and forget this bleeding-heart nonsense you’ve apparently developed since yesterquintant. And you are _never_ to go to any of the alpha and beta work factories without my _explicit_ permission. Is that clear, Keith?”

Keith’s lip began to shake. The Arch-Omega didn’t care what had happened to those people. Indeed, he was already on the next kiosk, taking out a hologram from his VAIBO and punching in code for bond futures on oranges. He’d already known his grandfather could be ruthless, but this…this was beyond what Keith had known about him. It was like his eyes were truly being open for the first time in his life.

Was it because of Mr. Shiro? The E-Machine’s accident? _Both_?

He didn’t like it at all.

“I…”

He took a step back, feeling his eyes burn. Behind him, the elevator let out a ding.

“Oh, sir!” Hunk instantly jumped up, running towards the person who stepped out as Keith turned to look. “E-Machine’s alpha foreman, alpha 57291-E-2! He, uh, he has important news-”

At this, the jump-suited figure walked forward to the Arch-Omega as Hunk gasped, head down and hands in pockets, cap with the telltale α on top with his number designation beneath covering his eyes. Keith watched as, after a moment, he took one hand out, revealing a ball of paper, mere inches from Zarkon’s chest.

Next to him, Keith could feel Hunk start to tremble.

“…Sir. Omega.” The dark-haired man was chunky, with a bald head, a goatee, and a squinty eye. He was a foot shorter than Zarkon, and his good eye only furtively glanced up at Keith’s grandfather-and certainly not looking into his eyes-as he stuffed his hands back into his pockets. “We found these, on some of the survivors…some of the intact dead, too. Six in all. They look just like the other quiznaking messages that have been found elsewhere, so…hm. That’s all, Omega.”

With that, 57291-E-2 turned to leave. However, a hand swiftly grabbed him where the shoulder met the neck, forcing him to stop. The man’s eye widened and sweat began to form on his brow; for a tick Keith thought his grandfather, having already noted how he felt about alphas and betas, would snap his neck then and there, right in front of him.

“A dobosh before you depart, foreman.” Like a puppet Zarkon turned him around to face Hunk. “Mr. Garrett. What am I holding in front of you?”

“Um…” Now the sweat was forming on the assistant’s brow. “The E-Machine’s alpha foreman, sir. As I…said he was.”

“And what did he just do?”

“…Give you a bunch of paper?”

“ _And_ he gave me information on the significance of what he found.” Keith swallowed as his grandfather’s gaze on Hunk hardened, the hand holding the papers waving around back and forth as he spoke. “Why am I hearing it directly from _him_ , an alpha is not otherwise fit to tie his shoes properly, and not _you_ , whose job it is to inform me of these developments in the factory sectors?”

The foreman’s face flushed bright red from…embarrassment? Humiliation? Keith didn’t know. As for Hunk, his face had gone ashen.

“Sir, I apologize, I-” Hunk looked away. “I didn’t expect him to walk up to you so brazenly-”

“Spare me your excuses.” The Arch-Omega’s hand let go of the plant foreman, who visibly relaxed after being released. “I will not tolerate such utter incompetence in my midst, especially from someone who purports to be from a good Omega family.”

Hunk didn’t respond, but regardless, Keith could see him inwardly crumble.

“One mistake is intolerable as it is. But two mistakes at once?” Zarkon casually smoothed out and folded the papers as he continued. “No, Mr. Garrett. You will proceed at once to the Ministry of Order. You will surrender yourself to the Department of Reassignment, where you will henceforth submit to Chemical Procedure-α. That is, unless you decide on a different course to save face for your family’s sake.”

Chemical Procedure-α. An operation designed specifically for Omegas. It was known for a long time that dynamics in general were difficult to change, and that normally, a classification was for life. Alphas and betas couldn’t become Omegas, for example. It was practically impossible to give someone a second full set of reproductive organs that their bodies simply couldn’t accommodate, even more so to replicate the hormones and pheromones that an Omega could produce.

However, through the use of chemicals and surgery, Omegas _could_ become a beta-or even an alpha. This, however, was generally reserved for Omegas who commit the most egregious and rarest of crimes against other Omegas-murder, sabotage, kidnapping.

He just saw his grandfather condemn a man for what amounted to a clerical faux pas.

“Grandfather-”

“Your family will receive your final wages. That will be all.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, slowly, quietly, Hunk’s head dropped, and he staggered to the elevator, bracing himself the frame until the elevator came back. Keith wanted to run over and hug him, to say something, but as it was, he was too stunned, too horrified by this new development, to do anything but stare.

Thus he could see Hunk’s shoulders start to shudder as the elevator doors closed.

“You may return to your post, 57291-E-2, and of course you know to speak to no one of this.” Zarkon turned to look at Keith with a frown. “You are _still_ here? Did I not tell you to go home already, Keith? Go to bed, and don’t bother overthinking what you saw tonight.”

“I…” Keith looked at the elevator, then back at his grandfather. He hoped his expression didn’t betray how disgusted he felt about his grandfather’s words and actions. “I’m going to go now.”

With that, he stumbled into the elevator the moment it opened again, collapsing against the handrail as he hyperventilated, tears finally rolling down his cheeks.

_Grandfather…why?_

The powerful Arch-Omega would do nothing. He would do nothing, and the alphas and betas would continue to suffer and die, just as he saw it. And who knew? Untold decaphoebs would pass before Keith became Arch-Omega-if he lived that long, he realized with a shiver-and by then so many would die that who knew what would happen. Would Keith become as desensitized as his grandfather to such mass death? Would he even care about anything outside of Central Command?

He didn’t know. All Keith knew was that nothing would change unless he did something now-whatever that might be.

The elevator stopped, but Keith didn’t let the doors open just yet. He sniffled, then adjusted his clothing, and wiped his eyes until he was certain his eyes and face were dry. Taking a deep breath and hoping that no one noticed the red splotches on his face, he let the elevator open.

Just in time to see Hunk Garrett raise a pistol to his temple, his back to the elevator.

“ _QuizNAK_ -!”

Keith acted quickly. He practically flew into the larger man’s back, causing him to flail to the ground with a shocked squawk. The pistol, meanwhile, flew across the room, bouncing off the frame of a massive painting before clattering to the ground.

“Oof- _no_!!” Hunk was surprisingly strong, and before Keith knew it he was falling onto his back as the other scrambled to get up, suit rumpled and eyes wild. “Why, Master Keith!? Why did you prevent me from doing that!?”

“Why _wouldn’t_ I!?” If any servants were nearby, they had the decency to walk by and not look as Keith went to grab Hunk’s arm. “What are you thinking!? How is that gun a solution to your problem!?”

“What other option do I have…!?” Looking up at his face, Keith stared as tears and snot streamed down Hunk’s face. The other began pulling his arm away, as well. “The Chemical Procedure and the Underground is all that I can look forward to now! Never to see my family again…never to see the sun…you saw what the Arch-Omega ordered! How he dismissed me and commanded that my dynamic be changed! Do you know how much of a shame it is for me and my family name to have that happen!? This is the only way to save face, and die as myself!”

“…unless you decide on a different course to save face for your family’s sake…”

Keith’s jaw tightened, as did his grip on Hunk’s arm.

“No. I won’t allow it.” Hunk let out a squeak of surprise. “I’ll…you can work for me. As my secretary. Or…something.”

“What!?” Hunk looked around, before lowering his voice, tone full of hope. “You…can you do that? You can really do that? I…I won’t become an alpha?”

 _Could_ he? He’d never done it before. But then again, he didn’t know just how his grandfather’s rule worked before, either. He’d already vowed to try and do something-maybe this was a good start.

Even if it directly defied his grandfather’s fiat. No family member of the Arch-Omega had ever defied him, so far as he knew. He certainly hadn’t ever countermanded his grandfather’s orders–not until now. If someone as lowly as Mr. Shiro could do it…

“I don’t know,” Keith admitted. “I might not be able to get you a job if you’re in the system for a Chemical Procedure. But even so, I won’t just let the Ministry of Order do anything to you for something so small. Not if it’s in my power to stop it. Come on, I’ll drive you to my place for the night.”

“…Master Keith…!” At this, Hunk’s face lit up, and even his tears seemed to have an added sparkle. “Oh, thank you, thank you!”

“It’s fine.” Keith looked down at his watch. “VAIBO, prepare a guest room for Mr. Garrett.”

“ _ **I have informed your household. The servants are on it!**_ ”

“I won’t let you down, I swear!” Hunk’s beefy hands went to clasp Keith’s as they made their way to the entrance of the Alcázar, where Keith’s car waited for them. “I promise, you won’t regret having me!”

“All right, Hunk.”

“Whatever you want me to do…!”

“I get it, Hunk!”

“On my family’s honor-”

“ _Hunk_! It’s ok!”

And despite the reassurances given, Hunk kept babbling like that, all the way to Keith’s apartment.

* * *

Zarkon Melanochaitra, Arch-Omega of the Ecumenopolis of Zamyatin, ruler of the world and all that was held within and without, watched his grandson stagger into the elevator, and immediately the alarm bells began to ring in his mind.

Even before Keith had been placed into his bassinet for the first time, he had told the boy’s caretakers and tutors to raise him as a proper future ruler–one who would ensure Zamyatin stayed as it should, with everyone in their place and everything running on time, all the time. Like a machine well-whetted with quintessence down to fine-toothed perfection and precision, the city would continue its inexorable march to the future, just as it was always done. Emotions, feelings and personal opinions were irrelevant to that mission.

Thus why the events that had unfolded mere ticks ago so troubled Zarkon now. Never before had his grandson shown any interest in the conditions of the lower dynamics. Never before had his grandson attempted to interrupt him so brazenly, to try and correct him, as he just had. Never before had Keith ever been so troubled; indeed, Keith had never been troubled, ever. Not so far as he knew. Not so far as he was told, as the boy grew over the decaphoebs into the cusps of maturity. He had always seemed to be a quiet boy, if withdrawn and sullen at times; any problems that came up in his development could be solved with diversion of the boy’s interest and time.

The emotional outburst was thus new to Zarkon. Concern for the lower dynamics was a trait unbecoming of a future ruler of Omegas; he knew full well what such trivial things could do to a developing leader’s mind. The look he saw in his dear young Keith’s eyes, and the way the boy had nearly defied his will over it, told him that this went far beyond whatever he learned in his youth, to something more primal that had lay undiscovered, uncurbed, and otherwise overlooked by all around him. Now that it was starting to show more overtly, he would need to intervene, personally and directly, into the young man’s life. It was the only way to ensure that the foolishness his grandson was starting to exhibit would go no further.

The tick he got to his desk, he pressed a button that opened a direct line to the Ministry of Order.

“General Zethrid. This is Arch-Omega Zarkon.”

Immediately a hologram popped up, revealing a square-jawed woman with pointed hair on each side. Her left eye was cybernetic, and the light scar tissue surrounding it and the left side of her face contrasted with her darker skin, along with the scar beneath her right eye.

“ ** _Hm?_** ” A wry smirk upturned the edges of her face. “ _ **Well, if it isn’t the boss himself! It must be important if you’re calling me like this so late. Not since…well. You know.**_ ”

“It is not the murder of one of our own, I’m afraid.”

“ _ **…Is it about finally catching the one who killed him, then?**_ ”

“No. Unfortunately. However, it is still a mission of the utmost urgency. One that only a member of Commander Sendak’s old inner circle can handle.” Zarkon folded his hands together, ignoring how his subordinates’ eyes widened, both on-screen and in the room around him. “My grandson is acting odd, spouting nonsense about dynamic equality and how we should treat alphas and betas…equally. Like _us_.”

He let that last word hang, laying his disgust out plainly through a prolonged hiss; the woman on the other end of the line shuddered in response.

“ _ **Huhuh! Well,**_ ” Zethrid began to crack her not-insubstantial knuckles. “ _ **Is**_ **that** _ **all? Just let me know where Master Keithy-kins is and I’ll bring him in. I’m sure I can scare him straight with a little drubbing!**_ ”

“I don’t need you to _beat_ my grandson, general.” Zarkon’s eyes narrowed in thought. “No-I need you to begin shadowing him immediately. Record all of his movements-where he goes, when he goes, who he talks to. If his VAIBO isn’t picking it up, you will and you must.”

“ _ **Interesting.**_ ” Zethrid leaned in towards her end of the screen. “ _ **You think it’s that bad?**_ ”

“It may be, soon enough.” Zarkon’s hands clenched together more tightly. “It is clear that someone-or some _thing_ -has started to influence him in a way that is counter to my design for him, and for the city. Such influence is clearly poison, and may invite him to learn things he needn’t bother with. I fear if it is not stopped, it may give him ideas that will endanger everything that us Omegas have worked for and achieved.”

“ _ **And the people he talks to?**_ ”

“Discern their intentions and decide if they are the culprit. If it’s an Omega, bring them to the Ministry and punish them for inciting seditious thoughts against the state. The sentence ought to be enough to deter others from following suit.” Zarkon couldn’t help the way his tone hardened at his next order. “If it’s an alpha or beta, erase them. Completely. I don’t want even a trace of their existence left.”

“ _ **…I see.**_ ” The smirk turned into a full-toothed grin. “ _ **Consider it done, boss.**_ ”

With that, the screen disappeared from sight with a blip. With that done, Zarkon turned his eye towards the folded papers on his desk. Slowly, he slid one of them over, unfolding it carefully to look it over. After a dobosh, he snapped his fingers.

“Tavo, stop what you are doing for this tick. Come here.” The man immediately obeyed, eyes wide. “You are in charge of cryptograding our monetary input. I want you now to try and decode this document, which seems to enjoy popping up in the pockets of our alpha and beta workforces. If you fail…”

Zarkon could feel the computer still as he trailed off, and he let out a gentle huff.

“No, I shall not hold it against you. But I will need to look elsewhere for answers if you cannot do it.” He passed the paper to Tavos, who immediately went back to his desk. “Do what you must to solve this, and keep me updated.”

_Elsewhere._

If Tavos and all others failed him, he knew there was one place-one person-he could turn to that could give him answers. One last fail safe, should nothing else work.

And if _that_ were the case, if he truly wanted to solve the puzzle, he would go to her, whether he wished to or not.

* * *

Keith had an idea.

He didn’t just go out and do it, though. He did have some patience, so he waited a night before initiating it. Ruminated over it while nursing a Coran-Cola Sparkle alongside Hunk, who nursed a milk. Slept on it, ate breakfast on it, watched the morning news on the holo-channels. The accident-and, much to his relief, Mr. Shiro-wasn’t even mentioned. It was after that when he made his decision.

Hunk wasn’t sure it was the best idea. Keith sympathized. But he knew, deep down, he had to do what he needed to do.

“VAIBO, make sure Mr. Garrett is comfortable.” He paused as he stood up, the amorphous hologram flickering on at his command. “VAIBO, how many alphas and betas do I have under my employ working right now?”

“ _ **Approximately 142, Master Keith.**_ ”

“Give them the rest of the quintant off.” Keith paused as he put on his coat. “I will be…out.”

“Master Keith-”

“Keith, Hunk. Just Keith.”

“…this is dangerous.” Hunk’s eyes widened. “What if you get hurt or worse? What if you’re caught?”

“I just…have to take my chances.” Keith took a deep breath. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. It could be vargas. It could be quintants. But I won’t come back until I’ve gotten the full picture…when I’ve understood what alphas and betas go through.”

 _…and until I’ve found Mr. Shiro._ His treacherous Omega mind helpfully supplied. _That mysterious alpha with the kind eyes…who is he?_

“…Promise me you’ll come back if it gets too dangerous.” Hunk grabbed Keith’s arm. “ _Please!_ If something happened to you on my watch, I really couldn’t live with myself!”

“I’ll be careful.” Keith smiled, giving Hunk’s hands a pat. “Hold the fort for me while I’m gone.”

With that, Keith proceeded to his car, leaning into the back seat. Outside, the morning light was shining, reflecting purple and pink on the Level 3 Ministry buildings nearby; above them all the Alcázar gleamed like a rainbow, its spire seemingly ready to touch the sun when it reached its peak. Keith squinted as the car streaking down the streets seemed to shoot straight into the sun, its destination as yet undecided.

“VAIBO, turn off location tracking in my car.”

“ _ **You wish to turn off location tracking, Master Keith?**_ ” A flickering question mark popped up from the driving panel. “ _ **This may be a violation of Section 82942-s of VAIBO’s Terms of Service. Are you certain you wish to do this?**_ ”

“I am. Turn it off.”

“ _ **You may incur fines up to ג100,000,000. Are you absolutely certain?**_ ”

“Yup. Do it.”

“ _ **You may be incarcerated for-**_ ”

“Ok, I _get_ it!” Keith huffed. “Just quiznaking _do_ it!”

“ _ **Location tracking disabled.**_ ” A little smiley face holograph appeared. “ ** _Have a nice quintant, Master Keith!_** ”

Then, the car was silent, and Keith thought over his options. The E-Machine was likely not an option; as his grandfather forbade him to visit the factories, it would be obvious that that would be the first place he might encounter resistance from whatever the Arch-Omega might bring out to bear on him. And Voltron…well. Voltron was likely better guarded than Central Command. There was no way he’d be allowed in there, Omega or not.

He mused on all of the great machine factories he knew of that were near his house. The C-Machine, which was responsible for manufacturing the supplies needed for filming movies and shows; there were the digital machines and the chips for movies in general, but there was also the nitrate film stock for the sake of authenticity in first-run cinemas, along with the projection equipment needed for them. Maybe he could go to the F-Machine, which created all of the basic furniture that was put in every ordinary Omega’s house, along with all of the beds and mattresses that the Omegas could count on for nightly comfort. Perhaps he could go to the H-Machine, which created and articulated every piece of building material needed, including the tools needed for fixing or modifying buildings, electronics and furniture.

After a dobosh, Keith decided on the C-Machine. He allows his car to guide him there, and as soon as it stopped, he dashed out of the car, running into the door as fast as he could. A plume of steam met him as he threw the door open, allowing the steam and heat to envelop him. Once more his eyes began to water as he found himself plunged into darkness, with only the faintest hints of electric light to guide him.

The C-Machine was a similar beast to the E-Machine, but unlike the E-Machine, there were massive steel loops all over the outer edges of the machine. Once the nitrate film emerged from the substrate sizing box inside the heart of the C-Machine, it began rolling over and around the loops at multiple angles, before being plunged downward into a massive emulsion vat. From there it was squeezed into a water-tight slat located at the bottom of the vat, and disappeared into a massive dark room, where the film was fastened to reels, boxed, and then shipped without being exposed to light.

Keith took a deep breath and decided to go into the dark room. As expected, it was dark, so dark that the only light was Keith’s VAIBO watch, and even this barely helped to illuminate where he was going. That, combined with the smoke, which still emanated in the room, made him cough as he tried to stagger through the maze that led into the main reeling area.

He had gone several steps when he heard a groan, followed by a thud. Instantly Keith was there, finding himself grabbing the body that fell to the floor, and was now gasping in his arms.

“Are you ok?” To his surprise, the body began to thrash against him. “Hey, hey-! I want to help!”

“ _No_! Let me…let me go back…! I can’t let a backup happen…!”

In the faint light of his watch, Keith could see the wide, wild blue eyes of the man staring back at him. His dark skin was marred with black stains, over his face and especially his hands; his jumpsuit wasn’t much better, and indeed, there were faint burn marks on the chest and arms of his clothing. In his cap was a giant β, the number “11811” beneath it. The black circles under those eyes were scaly and threatening to turn green.

Keith swallowed at the sight. How long had it been since this beta had a real break?

“Please!” The beta’s eyes began to fill with tears. “ _Please_ , Omega, I’ll be fine, but the film stock won’t be! If it backs up the entire rig will be plugged, and then emulsion will react to the overload of film in it, and then it _will_ spark-”

“No it won’t.” Keith’s hands clasped on the other man’s. He could feel the scars and calluses beneath the stains. “What’s your name?”

“I’m beta 11811-C-5”—”

“No! I mean…” Keith shook his head. “Your _name_. Not your designation.”

The man’s eyes widened even more, as if Keith had grown two heads, before he finally answered, eyebrows to his hairline.

“…Lance. My name is Lance.”

“Ok, Lance. Can you stand?”

“Of course, Omega!” Instantly, Lance wriggled out of his grip and did an unbalanced little hop. The absolute fakest grin spread across his face-as did the very real sweat. “I, uh, I just tripped over…a cat. Yeah. A cat. Cats trip people, right?” 

“Not normally.” The beta’s face fell, before Keith continued. “Listen. I’m not here to punish you. I’m here to learn.”

“From _me_?” The beta pointed to himself, blinked, then looked down, around, back at Keith. “Are you sure you don’t want my foreman?”

“Positive.” Keith leveled his eyes on Lance. “Now. Take off your clothes.”

Thus began what was probably the most dangerous part of his idea. This beta-or anyone near them who might hear them talking-could up and tackle him to the ground, report him to whoever they called their boss, and have him hauled out and arrested by the Ministry of Order for trespassing. Considering how his grandfather handled Hunk the previous quintant, Keith had to wonder if being jailed-or being given any sort of re-education known to be doled out by the Ministry-would be the least of his worries.

As it was, Lance was letting out a squeak of shock.

“Here? _Now_?” Now he was looking at Keith in the dim light like he had three heads-that all exploded simultaneously. “Uh, Omega, I’m on shift…doing the ugly quiznak isn’t allowed.”

“Huh?”

…Oh. _Oh._

“Not for _that_!” Keith hoped the beta didn’t see how red his face was. “I just want to switch clothes with you.”

“What!?”

“I said I want to learn.” Keith started talking off his jacket. “And the only way I’ll learn about you-about your fellows-is if I live like one. In return, I’ll let you experience my life in the meantime. Lance, will you do that with me?”

“…Why?”

Why indeed. Keith closed his eyes.

“…I want to help.” He opened them again, looking down at the blackness of the ground. “I want to find a way to help you, and every alpha and beta in Zamyatin, if it’s in my power.”

There was silence, and Lance turned away at this. For a tick, Keith thought he might refuse, and really, he hadn’t thought of a backup plan if that happened. Running away, diving into his car, and hoping no one saw him, was the best thing he could come up with off the cuff. Maybe Hunk was right, and he should have thought of what he was doing more.

Then Lance’s eyes seemed to brighten, and he yanked his cap off and handed it to Keith.

“Yes! I’ll do it, alpha!” Keith grabbed the cap, then grabbed his arm. “But we need to hurry before a backup happens!”

“How long does that take?”

“Five doboshes.” Lance was already unzipping his jumpsuit and kicking his work boots off. “And I don’t know how many of those we wasted already!”

With that, Keith nodded, and proceeded to strip faster than he could recall ever undressing before in his entire life. Clothing was tossed from him to Lance-who only had one piece outside of the cap to give him-and soon enough, Keith was zipping up the jumpsuit on his own body, while Lance was finishing putting his arms into his jacket. Thankfully, Lance was a similar size to Keith, albeit thinner and slightly taller, but otherwise, outside of the stains on his body, he could easily pass for an Omega about-town, a member of the upper class.

As for Keith, he could possibly pass for a beta. He quickly stuffed his hair under his cap as he completed his change of look. Meanwhile, running a hand through his short hair, Lance grinned in the dimness as Keith snapped the VAIBO watch on him.

“If you run into any problems, use this and call Hunk. Then have the car take you home. Actually, I really suggest you go see Hunk first before you do anything-he can help you out with any questions you might have.”

“ _Wow_ …this suit is like wearing air!”

“Now. Lance.” Keith clapped his hand on the other’s shoulder. “How do I do your job?”

“Oh, uh, right.” Lance pointed to the barely-visible panel with the light. Several large, heavy-looking knobs on levers were faintly illuminated. “First lever threads film into the reel, second starts rolling the film. Count to ten. Third stops the roll, fourth cuts the film, and then you put the reel into the box. The button down there brings up a new box. You gotta go fast or backup will happen, and just remember to only have one level active at a time, or a foreman will come up and whip you. Got it?”

“Got it.” It seemed easy enough. Then again, the workers at the E-Machine used simple knobs as well, and he’d never been whipped before. Keith swallowed. “And how long do I do this?”

“The shift change happened at 5.” Lance looked down at his watch. “It’s 928. My shift runs until 19. So you have a little under 10 vargas left.”

“Ten-” Lance was working fourteen vargas, probably on a regular basis. No wonder he looked ready to collapse. “All right. Anything else?”

“…My housing unit.” Lance smiled. “I’m in C-5, with my family. Let them know I’m ok? If they don’t believe you tell them ‘Lancey-Lance loves Lur and Ireneo.’ They’ll know what I mean.”

“Right.” Keith started using the levers, and quiznak they were heavy to pull up and down. But he was strong. He could do it. “Now go!”

“Omega…”

Lance took several steps back, the smile widening on his face. Then, with a whoop, he bolted, leaving Keith to the darkness just as he pulled up the first lever. Keith found himself fumbling as he realized he had no light. He could hear the roll start to whir, and he swallowed as his hand grasped levers, until he found the second lever and pulled. The zipper-like sound of the film rolling onto the reel was soft, and he made himself ready to count to ten. Then he stopped, cut the film, and stuffed it into the box before sending it off, lastly pressing the button for the next box to be filled.

Thread, roll, stop, cut, press button. He could do this. He had to.

He had to do it for ten vargas. 

* * *

Zethrid had followed the car until it rolled up to the C-Machine. Then she stopped, two cars away, watching intently as he practically ran in, as if it would stop anyone from seeing him blatantly entering. Of course he wasn’t authorized to enter, especially not after last night, according to Zarkon.

Even before _that_ transgression, though, the would-be boy-king, it seemed, had disabled his coupe's VAIBO location tracker, which made his car otherwise invisible to the system. He was lucky he was the Arch-Omega’s problem, because if it were entirely up to _her_ , she’d introduce him to such a world of hurt that he’d wish he was never born. That would put him in line quick and easy, like everyone else. But the boss’s grandson was a special case, so all she could do is sit and stew. And watch and wait for Keith to re-emerge.

Then someone emerged from the building and got into Keith’s, and Zethrid immediately knew it wasn’t her target. It began to drive after a dobosh, and Zethrid went to work.

“VAIBO, follow that unauthorized mobile. Ezor, I’ve got someone.” She spoke to her partner via VAIBO. “It isn’t the kid, but he’s wearing the kid’s clothes.”

“ _ **Oooh, how scandalous!**_ ” The voice that replied on her VAIBO dashboard was bemused, as a holographic picture of the fellow Omega popped up in the windshield. “ _ **And no sign of the one we’re supposed to shadow? Are you thinking what I’m thinking?**_ ”

“Probably. If he didn’t leave the building, he’s probably in this guy’s clothes.” It was possible this man was involved with whatever Keith was, and it only made sense to follow him. “I’ll see if I can get someone into the C-Machine to tail him. As for this guy…”

“ _ **Yeah?**_ ”

“See if you can get into the little prince’s personal VAIBO devices. I wanna track and see if this guy’s planning anything.”

The car in front of him turned left as silence reigned on her connection. Then, finally, Ezor responded.

“ _ **Uh, well!**_ ” Ezor sounded ready to laugh. “ ** _This is…hm._** ”

“What?”

“ _ **Pretty sure this guy you’re trailing has a watch on, so it’s been monitoring him the tick he started wearing it. I should be able to identify him by his quintessential biometrics once I input them into the Underground registry databases.**_ ”

“Right, but...you hesitated there.” Zethrid folded her arms. “What’s it picking up that made you do that?”

“ ** _Well, he’s…here, I’m patching the VAIBO’s audio through._** ”

The next thing Zethrid knew, there was a loud, rumbling sound akin to a roar, echoing through her car’s studio system. She nearly covered her ears with a yelp from the sheer strength of the racket that was shaking the speakers in her car along with the seats. It was reminiscent of the bass of a film in a movie theater, except this sound wasn’t as exciting to watch or hear.

The unexpected sound was followed by silence save for the faint hum of the car’s engine, only to be followed by more rumbling. This strange, almost flatulent-sounding noise continued even as, in front of her, the car turned another left, the route seemingly unfocused and without a destination. After a dobosh, the strange rumble returned, stuttered, then gave way to a wheezing din.

It took another dobosh for the experienced general to realize what she was hearing.

“…Is…is he _snoring_!?” Zethrid’s fists clenched. “Is he seriously-”

She was ready to tear her hair at the sound of Ezor’s laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. The fact she had to follow this fool, whether he went anywhere or went in circles for the next eight vargas-was even worse.

* * *

Eight vargas had passed. Not that Keith knew it, plunged deep as he was into the blackness. There was no way to tell time in the C-Machine.

He was tired and his arm burned from the repeated pushing and pulling of levers that were steadily starting to weigh more and more. The smell of fil stock wafted both from the borrowed jumpsuit and in the never-ending, increasingly tedious busywork that kept him rolling film and boxing it, one after another. More and more he was starting to trip a small, blinking yellow light-the only thing that illuminated anything, and even then barely, what with the haze that was ever present in the C-Machine-that indicated he wasn’t going fast enough to keep up with the rate of film speeding towards his workstation.

The faster he went to try and keep up the pace, though, the more tired he became. The more tired he became, the more likely he would keep activating the yellow light due to his lack of skill. The more that yellow light popped up, he knew that the likelihood sharply increased for him to screw up in a way that could gum up the entire system, and thus condemn dozens, if not hundreds of people to die in a horrible, fiery blaze-

“Psst. Lance.”

His head popped up at this. Then he brought his head down with a huff as he pulled the third lever with a grunt. Of course he couldn’t see who it was, nor could he pick the voice out of a crowd if he tried.

“Lance.” The voice came back again. This time, it was low, and close to his head. “It’s been confirmed. Go home after the end of the shift. Wait a varga, _then_ go to the meeting place. He’s going to speak again…!”

“What-” Keith could feel someone move away from them. “Wait, _who_ -!?”

No response. Whoever they were, they were gone, disappeared. He was then distracted by the yellow light blinked again, warning that the feared film backup was going to happen if he keep going. And so he kept going, gritting his teeth as he felt his strength begin to flag. His muscles began to scream at him for a break, for a moment, for a tick, something, anything so that his body didn’t just give out from the strain and the pain that was creeping in more and more steadily by the dobosh.

And the time kept going. There was no indication when it would end. It just kept going, and going, and it threatened to go on forever and a quintant. He could feel cold, and hot, sweat starting to cake his body from head to toe. His back began to hurt from all the bending, from all the pushing and pulling, and his eyes began to hurt even though he could see nothing. He began to pant as the yellow light started blinking more and more consistently despite his efforts, until the yellow light simply never turned off.

 _No…no!!_ Keith’s hands began to shake violently. _Grandfather…how is this right?_

His hands were starting to slip from the levers, slick from perspiration.

 _How can you justify this!? How…how could_ I _ever justify this!?_

The light was starting to blink orange, even as it stayed on and yellow. Failure was only creeping closer.

_Alpha or beta…this is beyond criminal, isn’t it!?_

His hands were turning black, and despite how hard he tried, soon the yellow light turned a solid orange. He was going to fail. He, an Omega, the supposed superior of the dynamics, was going to fail at something that apparently simple-minded alphas and betas could do all too easily, had to endure every single quintant to the detriment of their bodies, their minds. Their souls—

That was it. It hit Keith like a thunderclap in that tick. This was unacceptably long, soul-sucking, soul-crushing work, all of it designed to sap the spirit of everyone and anyone who was made to do it, with countless rules and regulations that prevented them from leaving the life enforced upon them. Just as Omegas were expected to be lifted up into luxury and light from the dobosh they were born, from A to Z to all of the machines in between, right down to the very heart of the city itself, Voltron, alphas and betas both endured darkness and cruelty. All of it enforced by his grandfather, that distant man whom he had before both loved and respected and saw as a leader of men. All of it designed to put the alphas and beta down for their supposed uncontrollable sexual and base behaviors-and more than that, keep them there to the point where they would perhaps want nothing more than the release of death.

What _other_ horrors were there, then? This was just Lance’s work shift-he couldn’t even imagine how Lance lived _outside_ of work. He didn’t even have any frame of reference to what it could possibly be like, other than the oft-spouted stories of how alphas and betas lived like sub-human savages in the Underground, quintant in and quintant out, with no natural light and only food pills to sustain them. He could only imagine at that point that it was as dreary, if not less dangerous, than working a job that every quintant could get one maimed, killed, and then replaced-not to mention the threat of being _Processed to Voltron_ by higher-ups, which he had yet to even disprove-without a second thought.

But unlike Lance, Keith could quit pretending at any time and find a way to return to his comfortable, easy, aimless life. He wouldn’t, yet. Right then, he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop or he would die. More than that, others would die, and Keith decided that no matter what, he couldn’t let people die. Alphas, betas, Omegas, it didn’t matter who it was. If he stopped right then, it would happen.

The solid orange just started blinking red when, above the noise of the C-Machine, a harsh, high-pitched shriek suddenly pierced his ears. All around him, he heard the shuffling of feet and the low murmur of voices that seemed to start milling towards the direction of the darkroom’s exit. Then, he felt someone touch his shoulder and pull him away.

“I got this! Go on, your shift’s over.”

It was over. Ten vargas of work, with no stopping. Keith should have felt happy that he was out, that he was done. But instead, he felt drained, his exhaustion settling deep into his bones. More than that, he felt apprehension. He knew that he was stuck for the moment as beta 9. He had no way to contact Hunk, or Lance; no way to truly prove he was an Omega, much less the Arch-Omega’s heir, outside of his own word.

And-even if he did have a way, he doubted Lance even would want to return willingly. Not that Keith blamed him. All he wanted to do is sleep, to lay down and close his eyes and never wake up, as he slowly shuffled out into the smoke and the light that seemed as bright as the sun in comparison. Especially if it meant he never had to go through another shift again. But he had the feeling he might.

He never did tell Lance when to come back, after all. It really was possible he might never come back.

Everyone let go was being shifted through a barred gate, which slowly opened for the departing to leave on one side, while allowing the newcomers to enter. All entered and left in a six-by-six line of people, and no one in the lines entering the factory tried to sneak into the line leaving. Not that they could, as every ten meters there was an overseer out, their eyes glaring at anyone who dared try to fall out of line.

After walking through an arched tunnel of cold concrete, Keith found himself along with the crowd, going to a set of elevators. He could seem them-just as he was, now-all bent forward, heads down, shuffling in rhythm, their silent suffering unspoken of and unnoticed. It was the same thing as they did at the E-Machine, amidst the shouts of ever-irritated foremen.

“Back to work! There’s an orange light in the black room! Hurry it up, you lazy scrubs! Don’t make me have to come in there and do something drastic to you lot!!”

Keith winced as he brought his head down and shuffled into the departing crowd. No one stopped him. No one spoke to him. Indeed, no one seemed to recognize him as he was stuffed into an elevator like another sardine in the bunch, all silent and dead like a funeral. He might as well have been there the entire time, as the elevator began its slow descent into the Underground. Indeed, he wondered if, should his grandfather end up figuring out what he’d done, he would end up having to get used to the horror for the rest of his life-however much longer it might end up being.

He shoved his hands into his pockets from the sheer nerves he felt, jostling people around him. As everyone grumbled, his fingers clenched, much to his shock, around what felt like paper.

_Huh?_

More jostling, more grumbling from his newfound comrades, but he managed to get the paper out enough to get a quick look. Right before he jammed it back into his pocket again, eyes wide and heart pounding even as he kept his face down. He didn’t need any more than a cursory glance to know what it was, after all. He hoped no one else had seen what was on it.

After all-it was the same paper he’d seen yesterquintant. The same paper that his grandfather had received earlier, coded message and all.


	4. III

Zethrid was getting bored.

The individual that she was following wasn’t exactly…normal. Usually, when alphas or betas got on the run, the reports she read on such incidents would point out how they’d break into stores, or harass people on the street for GAC. Sometimes they’d find their way to the red-light areas, where they’d try to get together with Omegas like the dogs they were-especially if they were alpha-before they were inevitably stopped.

 _This_ person, though?

This idiot-after coming out of his 12-varga coma-went straight into the Orpheum Circuit and watched a movie. And not just any movie-it was an animated movie made for children, which was mostly empty save for a few other night-owls. Keithy-kins must have left his GAC in his clothing, as the beta-thank you, registry database-simply strolled up, paid for a ticket and concessions, and proceeded to the theater and sat down like any respectable Omega might. Well, he skipped into the theater, but no one batted an eyelash.

“Ezor,” From her position in the very last row, Zethrid grumbled into her VAIBO as she popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “You got an eye on the guy?”

“ _ **Mm-hmm! I’m half a row away.**_ ” The response was barely heard above the musical number that was flashing across the screen. “ _ **Oh my god, he…he…!**_ ”

“What is he doing!?”

“ _ **…He’s eating**_ **Thwoppers** _**and drinking** _ **Bronson Root Beer** _ **!**_ ” Ezor almost sounded scandalized, and Zethrid smacked her face with a growl. “ _ **Seriously? Who orders that now in a public theater!? Alphas have no taste in food, I tell you-**_ ”

“Right, right, just-” Zethrid rolled her eyes. “Keep me informed if he pees on the carpet or something. I’ll take over watch again after we get out of this film. Zethrid out!”

With that, she turned her VAIBO off, shoving another handful of popcorn in her mouth before slurping on her cup of Coran-Cola. For a watch, it was starting to be a bust. Especially since there was no sign of Keith. Maybe it was time to possibly catch this beta and grill him.

Maybe not. She’d give it a couple more vargas. If this beta didn’t give anything else more useful, then she’d move in. For now, she watched him, only occasionally casting her eyes towards the animated mess that was on screen.

* * *

Nestled above the Underground-but below Level 1, where the lowest entrances to the factories were, and where the lowest Omegas still lived far better than any alpha or beta could dare-there was a house. On the outside, it was a simple, if dilapidated place, made of thatch and brick and stone, with a wooden frame and asphalt tiles on the roof. All of the outer walls had been painted over many decaphoebs ago to match the surrounding environment of grays and white, with reflective surfaces to imitate how light would catch the metal of the skyscrapers that surrounded it, every quintant and night cycle. It was a place few realized existed, even though it was one of the few buildings remaining from before the End Tick; someone would only find it only if they were looking for it, or by pure happenstance.

For the owner of the house, it was just fine with her.

She sat in her study, white hair tumbled over her dark face and sallow cheeks as she hovered over her work. A transparent holograph popped up in front of her, and she began mumbling formulas to herself as she typed them into the holograph’s database with long, bony hands. Next to her was a pre-End Tick book, along with a zeptite cube, which floated as the microscopic components began to glow purple. Several more clicks of the floating keyboard, and the cube began to stripe gold. In the corner by the door, her cat was curled up, eyes closed.

Said eyes immediately bolted open, and the cat’s head bolted up, nose twitching. After a tick, he hopped up, letting out a deep, throaty yowl, then bolted from the room.

_Intruder._

Immediately the woman stood up, briskly walking towards the door to her study to look down on the floor below. The moment she entered the main foyer area, it hit her. The scent was heavy, almost overwhelming, like the fresh smell of hickory burning on a fire, tinged with a hint of vetiver. It wafted into the air and assaulted her senses like a sucker punch, and her knees nearly gave out.

Nearly. But not quite. Not enough to make her forget who it belonged to.

Indeed, in the massive, empty space beneath her, there was a single figure, standing tall and fresh in his immaculate three-piece suit, his hair slicked back to his skull. Her hands grasped the handrail, her eyes bearing down at him as he walked around almost aimlessly, taking in the surroundings as if it were the first time he’d ever walked into the place. For a moment, it might have been like old times. Maybe he would look up at her, give her one of his rare smiles, beckon her to embrace him. Perhaps he would even wish for more.

Then he went towards a door made of obsidian to open it, had his hand on the gold knob, and immediately she reacted. Fast as a viper she struck, leaping down to the first floor to try and stop him, but it was too late. The door was open.

Zarkon was staring, eyes wide, no doubt at the sight. It was a massive, realistic statue of a young man wearing the ancient folk costume of the pre-End Tick culture of Altea, complete with a rich, loose, fringe-heavy robe and facial markings. There was a confident smile on his face as he stood with imaginary wind in his long chestnut hair and elaborate clothing, a bearing that was more than regal and sublime. It was made of pure alabaster, and its surface delicately covered in the finest of oil paints and pigments. The care to detail was such that one might have been mistaken in thinking that the young man was simply posing, and that he would step off the pedestal at any moment.

But he wouldn’t. Carved into the pedestal, and filled in with black obsidian, was an epitaph.

**L O T O R**

**Born of an Alpha Woman**

**Beloved by his Mother**

**And**

**Destined For Greatness**

**Cruelly Killed Before His Time**

**By His Father**

**The**

**ARCH-OMEGA**

**Of**

**ZAMYATIN**

Said Arch-Omega might have had the chance to read the touching memorial she had made in that brief tick. He would not get a second chance to do so, for she threw herself in front of him and threw the door closed with a satisfying clang. She backed this up with an angry growl, her hands thrown open to keep him from coming any closer.

For a moment, alpha and Omega stared at each other, and neither spoke. He broke it after an eternal dobosh.

“…I wish to talk to you about something important.”

 _Really!_ She sneered bitterly. Was that all he had to say after coming back to her house? After _everything_?

“Oh, perhaps you wish to apologize _now_? It’s far too late, Omega.” Her words came out as a choked snarl. She had the right to her dignity, alpha or no. “Nothing you can say will make anything you did better. Not after ten ticks, or a half-centraphoeb, or even ten-thousand-half centraphoebs.”

“…I’m not here to dwell in the past.” Nevertheless, she could see Zarkon’s eyes cast over her shoulder to the door. “I’m here to preserve the future. Are you not still my top scientific advisor? Or has your mind truly degraded from grief after all this time?”

“My mind is still here, as is my pride. After all, are _you_ not still my bond-mate?” she shot back. “Despite all of your propaganda preaching the virtues of dynamic purity, despite all your claims of burning away the imperfections in your city, you still smell like _mine_.”

A hiss came from the Arch-Omega, and he turned away from her like the coward he always was, that she always knew him to be.

“What’s wrong, Zarkon? Are you not here to use me, as you and your fellow Melanochaitra posse always do to alphas?” Her voice sharpened, and her tone became more commanding. “Tell me to my face that’s the case. _Look at me_ , Omega.”

The voice had its effect-it always did. In a mated bond between dynamics, an Omega’s resistance to an alpha’s command couldn’t last. After all, it was a basic biological fact-an alpha ordered, an Omega obeyed. Zamyatin’s elite liked to pretend something so deeply ingrained in their nature was erased, and the unwashed masses of alphas and omegas were forced to believe it wasn’t even real.

She knew better. Zarkon slowly turned, eyes wide and vulnerable. They met her cold eyes, her sallow cheeks, her skin made nearly ashen. She knew he might have a little concern for the deterioration of her looks, shallow as he was. She long ago discarded her own, for what she lost them for was worth it.

But to say why-not yet. _Not yet._

“…Our son is dead.” His voice was thick with emotion that she-Honerva, also once 28173-R-knew wouldn’t last. “What else would you want from me, alpha? To drop to my knees and beg forgiveness for something neither of us could have predicted?”

“He was with _you_ when he passed. You, and your superficial little minx that you called your trophy wife.” Honerva held her arm, her nails digging in deep enough to potentially draw blood. “You promised to protect him. To love him as I did. He was the greatest thing to happen to any of us, to anyone, and you let him die anyways!”

“ _No_! It was an _accident_ , an unforeseen _malfunction_ , how many _times_ must I-” He turned away again. “Honerva…alpha. I know I will never convince you of that. That I loved him, as you did, that I never would willingly let such a thing happen to our son...that nothing will replace him in this whole world for as long as I live. But we must let him _go_!”

She wanted to rail and scream at him for his presumptuousness. She managed to restrain herself, resigning herself to staring. Little did he know. But that was his default state of being, wasn’t it?

“Even if we are miserable because of it, even if you hate me, even if we never see each other again…at least let the dead be at peace. No more statues, or memorials, or lingering on what might have been! Please, if you must destroy yourself or me, at least let our son pass on if you should allow nothing else.”

Maybe he _should_ know. He’d long since abandoned her to her fate, after all, save for times like this where he came for her advice and strategies, things that he had grand Omegas to lean on beforehand. She was always last, when it came to him. It had always been the city that came first.

A smile slowly curled her lips upwards.

“To you, yes, he is dead and gone.” She slowly stepped away from the obsidian door, keeping her eyes trained on Zarkon as he turned to face her again with wide eyes. “But not to me. Not for long!”

“…Honerva…”

He stared at her like she’d lost her mind-and perhaps she had, long ago. Not at that moment, though. Her mind was clearer, and her purpose more obvious, than it had been when she’d thought she would be in love with the man in front of her for the rest of her life. With a coquettish toss of her snow-white hair, she began to walk to another door, motioning him to follow. As she did, her cat scampered up to her, letting out an asthmatic growl. 

“Kova?” She heard Zarkon stop abruptly at the sight of the feline. She could almost imagine his jaw dropping. “Is that... _him_?”

“It is.”

“He should be…” Kova let out a hiss before he scampered over to rub against her calves. “I got him for you decaphoebs ago. How is he still alive?!”

“My research on quintessence has been…very fruitful.” Finally, she came up to the massive steel door, and her hand came up. A hologram popped into existence at her command. “My determination-and the genius of the surviving texts and remnants of the civilizations before us, to which you forbid all others access-has helped to make strides on the applications of quintessence that your Omega scientists can only dream of.”

“Is that so?” It was clear Zarkon was only indulging her pride. Let him be condescending-it would not be for long. “How interesting you have accomplished anything, despite not using the city’s resources.”

“The technology I developed for your little private hegemony to mess with? Merely child’s toys in comparison. Personal assistant AIs? Automated cars? Nanite-based biochip monitoring and tracking? Upgrades to the machine halls and facilities?” The alpha scoffed at the memories. “Irrelevant. Even the automatons are primitive compared to what I have done since then. Indeed, I have created a strain can prolong the average Omega lifespan by 1,000 percent with just a single liter...I can grant a man super strength and speed, with other abilities no mortal can imagine…I have calculated a means to fly to the ends of the galaxy through the use of quintessence as fuel at the speed of light…even to open doors to other universes with quintessence energy alone, those possibilities are all unlocked to me!”

“Impossible…!”

“…And more than that…” The door slowly opened after Honerva finished inputting the code. “I can now create a basic form of life simply using quintessence. A form that can be manipulated…refined…”

She stopped, clapping for the lights to come on.

“…and transformed to become precisely what I wish it to be.”

As the lights came on, she watched as her Omega alighted on what was in the room. His scent changed, emanating the bitterness of marigold through the forest. She knew the scent well from her time with him-it was the smell of her mate’s fear.

Sitting in a chair like a king on a throne was her greatest creation. It was a robot, yet it was nothing at all like the bulky dark-grey or white centurion androids used by the Ministry of Order. It was sleek, more human-like in basic visage and form-despite its purple skin tone-than anything built by any other engineer or factory in the city. More than that, it wasn’t just outwardly human-like-its violet skin was fleshless and translucent like a crystal, showing that it had what looked like veins beneath, connecting everything to one another. In its chest was what looked like a heart, pumping something that looked like it could have been real blood through its body. It even had a brain of crystalline silver, and if one looked close enough, they could see every ridge, every lobe, as one might have seen in a human brain.

As the lights came on, the head of the robot came up, as smoothly and as quietly as any human might have, its empty pupilless eyes fixing on Honerva. There was not even the hint of a whirring motor, not even the suggestion of artificiality in its movements, save a deep coldness that seemed to emanate from its eyeless sockets ringed as it was by a line of violaceous effervescence.

“Lotor.” Honerva could feel her smile widen, her pride swelling at the sight at her son, incomplete as he yet was. “My dearest, we have a guest. Say hello to the Arch-Omega, the man who was once your father, won’t you?”

She turned to see the other’s reaction. He was already stunned at the sight of the machine alone. Then, the machine stood up and slowly, almost timidly, walked over to him, like any shy person might have in any normal situation. Slowly, the robot’s hands clasped together expectantly as its feet shuffled forward, before finally stopping in front of Zarkon. Honerva watched with not a little bit of glee and excitement as her creation took its first full steps, and the Arch-Omega’s expression shifted from stupefaction to amazement, to sudden, dawning horror.

Finally, the robot looked up at the Arch-Omega expectantly, hands wringing tightly together.

Just as their son did when he was nervous.

The sound Zarkon made as his hand went to his mouth, and his eyes shut, was one akin to a wounded animal. Honerva, for her part, drank in his pain and terror.

“You see?!” She cackled as she brought a hand to her robot’s shoulder. In response, the robot’s head looked up at her, and its hands relaxed as they went down to their thighs, then to its hips. “You would call me a fool. Others may call me mad. I gave up everything which made me desirable to you--my beauty, my love, my future and my past-in pursuit of the one thing that matters most to me! And at last I uncovered the secret to bringing Lotor back for good-the Robeast!”

“…cannot be…”

“My dear Robeast is capable of mimicking anyone I choose for it, down to the atom. It can even mimic whatever dynamic chosen for it, and it will never need recharging. It has the quintessence of a human and more than that-right now, enough to last for 20,000 decaphoebs!” Her hand clenched just a little tighter on the creature’s shoulder. “And for the past five decaphoebs, I have been recreating Lotor’s memories and personality using VAIBO records, and preparing it all for download into my creation. I have already begun the transference stage of basic essence, as you can see. All that I need is to finish the skin duplication cloning and synchronize the biomimetic program in its brain with my data. When that is done…no one will be able to tell the difference between him and the real Lotor! Not even VAIBO! Not even _you_!”

She could see the longing in her Omega’s face at the sight, even as it mixed in with terror. Then, she saw his hand start to reach for her creature, and immediately she reacted with a hard slap, forcing him to withdraw.

“Alpha…!”

“You may do what you wish with that boy you claim as your heir.” She held her arm out, drawing the literal and metaphorical line between the Arch-Omega and her Robeast. “But this time, Lotor belongs to _me_!”

The fists clenched. The eyes narrowed. But when push came to shove, Zarkon was the Omega in their bonded relationship. Honerva could match him and more. Soon enough, he looked down, finally backing away. She could tell he was forcing himself not to look at her oeuvre, and she counted it as another victory.

Finally, she dismissed her creation with a gentle wave of her hand, and the Robeast nodded, walking back to his chair. Now that she had proven her dominance, she could tend to whatever the issue was at hand.

“Now, my Omega…now that that is out of the way. Why _are_ you here?”

There was a long silence as Zarkon looked away. With a clearing of her throat, she walked out of the room, giving her Omega an expectant look. Only a few ticks later, he followed, and the steel door closed behind them.

“…Because you are the one whom I trust to answer my questions. Despite your dynamic, you are nevertheless the most brilliant mind in this city.” Quietly, he took a piece of paper, handing it over to her. It was clear that the paper had been crumpled from the multiple tiny ridges on its surface, but naturally the Arch-Omega had tried to smooth it out as much as possible. “For many phoebs, now, we have been finding these coded messages in our workers’ possession. Despite our efforts, even my top experts have been unable to understand what it is, deeming it impossible. So, I turn to you now as my best and last hope.”

“’Despite my dynamic’. _Hah_.” She sneered as she took the paper from him. A cursory look was all it took to uncover part of the puzzle. “Most interesting, though, that your proclaimed dynamics of dumb muscle and boring normality can write or even understand katakana.”

“Katakana?”

“A syllabary. A written subset designed for transcription for Japanese.” She shoved past Zarkon, walking towards her staircase. “Japanese was a written and spoken language of the people of a country called Japan. Neither country nor language has existed in the open since long before the End Tick.”

She bounded up to her study, not even bothering to wait for her Omega. Tossing the paper onto her desk, she began scanning her library for physical copy, before coming upon a book whose cover looked so moth-eaten and molded one could be forgiven in thinking it would fall apart the tick she took it out. However, upon opening it the pages were crisp and clear, if irreversibly yellowed from age. Deftly she flipped through the book before she found what she was looking for, long fingernails scanning the page.

“A pre-End Tick language?” Zarkon had finally caught up to her, staring down at her as she hastily began scribbling down notes. “How is that possible? Aside from your library, no alpha or beta is permitted access to the few documents we have! Even now, I don’t even allow most of my trusted Omegas to see the archive we’ve compiled!”

“Your arrogance is as astonishing as your ignorance, Omega.” With a flourish she finished her notes, then compared them to the message. “Katakana is quite easy to learn, if you intend on using it for very simple purposes. And something as simple as a phonetic code was more than enough to fool your linguists, it seems. Because this coded message is in fact a map.”

She looked up at Zarkon, who had at that moment sat down in the chair in front of her desk. Then, she looked down at her notes, and began transcribing her notes to the crumpled message. Next to her, Kova hopped up onto the desk, letting out a purr as he rolled into a ball.

“And this map…”

Within the dobosh she was finished, holding it up to show to Zarkon. Indecipherable scribbles to him were transformed into directions. Into instructions. All leading to a single word.

**_CATACOMBS._ **

“Leads one way.”

Zarkon’s fist came down hard onto the arm of the chair as he sat up straight, staring at the now-translated paper. She watched, then, as his eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed, and his chest began to heave, up and down. He was angry. Enraged, even, at his workforce of alphas and betas who had found a way to defy him and his order. It was a thing he despised most of all, and Honerva couldn’t help but cackle inwardly at the sight of his utter impotence.

“…So my laborers have started going to one of those blasphemous ruins of welter.” His voice was dangerously low, his posture tense as a tiger ready to pounce. “I wish to know why.”

“And so you just might, Omega,” Honerva couldn’t help but purr as she opened a drawer in her desk. “After all-you and I both know something those workers don’t.”

“And that is…?”

“That this house has access to every surviving pre-End Tick area beneath your city.”

Quietly she placed two flashlights on the desk-one in front of Zarkon. For a moment, the Arch-Omega’s eyes widened, before he quickly snatched it, flickering it on and off to test it. For her part, Honerva watched. She couldn’t deny that, while seeing Zarkon suffer was certainly enough to be the highlight of her night, she also couldn’t deny that she was also, in fact, curious. After all, so far as she had been aware, she was the only person aside from the Arch-Omega with any real access to those pre-End Tick sites-forget being the only alpha-in the entire breadth of the city. That someone managed to uncover even one of those sites without her knowledge was quite spectacular.

Now, she had to know who it was and why. Perhaps they might even be of some use to her, if they were as clever as she suspected them to be.

“So.” She shined her light towards a bookcase before letting out a clicking noise. Immediately, Kova hopped onto her shoulder, and she practically bounced to the frame of the case. With a touch, the bookcase slid aside, revealing a secret passage that went down, down, down into darkness. “Shall you go forward first? Or shall you let your alpha lead you?”

With that she turned, ready to do. Whether Zarkon followed or not didn’t matter to her.

All that was important was that, whatever happened, she would at least have her answer.

* * *

_Go home after the end of the shift. Wait a varga,_ then _go to the meeting place._

Keith’s mind ruminated over the whispered message as the elevator finally stopped and the doors opened up.

_He’s going to speak again…!_

He didn’t know for certain what it meant. However, he suspected it was connected to the coded message that had so vexed his grandfather. It was clear that, whatever the message meant, it was not one that only a half-dozen people possessed. Even if he realized, as he managed to unfold it furtively after stumbling out the stifling lift with a gasp of only slightly-fresher air, that he couldn’t understand any of the language that was there.

What he did recognize, though, was that part of it was a map, which meant that the coded part was likely the directions. Again, though, he had no idea what it was a map of-it wasn’t anything in the city above, that was for sure. Maybe if he was lucky, he could see where people were going once the varga was up and follow them discreetly.

In the meantime, he needed to check out C-5. All of the machines had Underground sections where their assigned alphas and betas lived, connected by air shafts and foreman tunnels, and the C-Machine was no different. Underground-C, as Keith looked around, was little more than a patchwork tenement. The parts of the buildings cut out of the rock were connected with little more than wood, paint and plaster, with four to five stories in each grey, unadorned, uninviting shell. Dirty children in ragged clothing ran afoot as they went to hug their parents returning from work, while, instead of the moon or any natural light, harsh halogen lighting beamed down from the ceiling and from open windows in every building.

The entrance of every building that he passed by was lined in posters, many of them with happy and smiling alphas and betas working or posing beneath the severe visage of his grandfather’s face. They were all about working, about obeying all orders from their Omega superiors, to remember that they were always being watched, about how there were supposedly opportune openings at the Ministry of Science and Arena for the _particularly special_ among them. There were also many posters about a reminder about the recommended-if not outright required-two-children limit for all alphas and betas, alongside the glories of the enforced sterilization that inevitably followed for those caught having more than that. There was no other art, no other reading material, no libraries or museums.

There was a cacophony of noise and chatter all around; there was no glass in the windows. No lockable doors, no blinds to shield from prying eyes. There was no privacy in this part of the world, either. It was only marginally better than the actual drudgery of work that the lower dynamics had to endure. It was only marginally better, because they could go back to their families for the briefest of times, and with luck get some sleep. With the scaly skin under Lance’s eyes, one could doubt that even their precious few hours of sleep worked out too well for them.

Keith quickly brought his head down, his cheeks flushing. It was terrible. All of it was terrible. If this was how the buildings were on the outside, he couldn’t imagine how it was on the inside of the building. Eventually, though, he found himself at building C-5, where the numbers of every alpha and beta were haphazardly painted on the side of the main doorway. Slowly he made his way to the third floor, where the number 11811 was painted on the wooden door of what looked to be a very small apartment.

There was another number next to it: 28172. Keith’s eyes widened. Of course. Lance’s family. Or, at least, a member of his family. Slowly, he turned the splinter-encrusted doorknob and opened the door.

And was nearly de-brained by a crowbar swinging at his head.

“ _AH_ -!”

He managed to duck, but it didn’t matter. A hand grabbed Keith and, with surprising strength, threw him into the apartment like a ragdoll, causing him to land right onto the bare, splintered, hardwood floor. Keith let out a yowl of agony as his elbows connected to the ground first, and pain shot through his already abused arms.

He went to roll onto his back-and found himself staring-and smelling, for there was a clear scent in the air of apple and durian that assaulted his nostrils-at a female alpha who was holding the crowbar threateningly over his head.

A very angry, _very pregnant_ female alpha, wearing a multi-colored dress of patch-worked bed sheets and random strips of work clothing sewn together into clothing.

“Who are you!?” That crowbar who looked ready to swing that crowbar right that tick and ending Keith’s life right then and there. “What have you done to Lance, and why are you wearing _his clothes_!?”

“Buh!? No!” Instantly, almost instinctively, Keith rolled into a fetal ball, head in between his knees and arms practically covering his head and back. “Don’t, please, alpha! He’s all right! It’s not what you think-”

“I could practically _smell_ you coming, Omega, don’t lie to me! Have you come here to take my babies!?”

“What?”

“ _My. Babies._ ” The alpha still looked very ready to bring the crowbar down, shaking it in preparation. “If you think I’m going to let you rip my belly open just so you can toss my children out to some haughty, hoity-toity, _greedy_ Omega socialite-”

“ _What!?_ ” Keith’s voice went up an octave to accompany his surprise. “Why would _I_ want your babies!? I haven't even thought of having children yet-I'm in my twenties!”

The crowbar stopped shaking.

“You’re not here for...” Keith loosened himself a little but found the crowbar right near his nose as he tried to relax. “But you’re in Lance’s clothing! What did you do to him?”

“Yeah, I’m in his clothing, and he is in mine! I did nothing else to him!” Keith swallowed and looked up at the alpha’s angry sky-blue eyes, nestled beneath dark, golden blonde hair, which stared back at him with thinly veiled suspicion. “Please, I…I switched places with him so I could learn more about how alphas and betas live!”

“Why?” She didn’t exactly look convinced. “Why would an Omega care for _any_ of us?”

“I…” He really didn’t think this out, the more he thought about it. Then again, he wasn’t expecting Lance’s family to be an alpha who looked ready to give birth any quintant. It was unsurprising that she might be just a _little_ territorial, if not downright murderous. “I didn’t come here to hurt anyone, much less Lance. I swear, I wanted to see what life was like, after the E-Machine accident, and more than that…more than that, Mr. Shiro didn’t seem at all like what they said alphas were like-”

“Shiro!?” The crowbar dropped to the floor with a gasp, and the woman held her stomach in shock. “You saw Shiro?”

“I…of course? And I’m glad I did.” Keith blinked. Then blushed as he realized what he said, rubbing his face in embarrassment. “I mean, he’s not the only reason I came here! It’s just, I first saw him, and…I looked into his eyes, and…and he smiled. Then he winked at me.”

“…Really.”

The alpha’s voice was flat, and she turned away at him. Oh, god, he was babbling. He wasn’t entirely sure if it had to do with her gravid scent, or if the thought of Mr. Shiro was the thing making him flustered like a kindergartner.

“Um…what I meant to say was…do you know him?”

“…Yes. I know him.” The alpha’s tone was tight as she walked away. “He is an alpha…as you guessed.”

“Can I meet him?” The woman turned to look at him again, and Keith held his hands up, still on the floor. “I don’t want to hurt Mr. Shiro, never. Not after what I’ve experienced at the machines so far. I want to meet him…to talk to him. To get to know him more.”

Once more, as he spoke, his face turned red at the thought of meeting Mr. Shiro. Seeing his smile again, his wink, his eyes, his body—

“Snap out of it.” A slightly sharp pain in his cheek brought him out of his reverie. “Hm…it’s true that you seem too foolish or too lovesick to be here to cause trouble. At least, not intentionally.”

“ _Lovesick_?!” Again, Keith’s voice went up an octave, this time in indignation. “I-I only saw him for ten doboshes!”

“Of course it was only ten doboshes. Shiro has that effect on people,” she mumbled, crossing her arms over her stomach. “I’m guessing you plan on going to the meeting, then.”

“Well…” Keith’s eyes widened. “If he’s going to be there, I wish to be there too.”

“Hm.” The alpha began to waddle over to a chair; it creaked when she sat down and squirmed, trying to get even remotely comfortable. “Well, if you plan on going, you ought to go soon.”

“Wait, I-” immediately Keith scrambled to his feet. “Why did you think I was coming here to steal your babies!?”

“Why do you think?” The lady growled. “What other reason would your lot need our children for?”

“But babies are too young to…work?” The murderous glaze that flashed in the woman’s eyes made Keith gulp in fear. “I…right, I’m going to go now.”

“Yes. I think you’d better.” The lady didn’t stop staring at him as he dusted himself off. “And pray that you are telling the truth about Lance and your intentions, should you attempt to show your face in my rooms again.”

“I…I promise.” Keith paused at the door, turning back towards the lady. As he did, his memory suddenly came back, and he gasped. “Oh! I almost forgot. Lance had a message for you, he said it would…show he was all right. ‘Lancey-Lance loves Luro and Irene’. And I’ll…I’ll go now. Bye.”

He heard the alpha lady make a sound, and the creak of the chair, but Keith had already turned around and left. He didn’t see if the alpha was getting up, or coming to chase him and smack him with that crowbar of hers, or even going to get others in the C-5 building to try and chase him for answers. Not that it mattered-it was clear that, at Lance’s place, he wasn’t exactly welcome, even if it was the only place he could go to while wearing the clothing of a beta.

 _That…could have gone better,_ he guessed. He began shuffling around, his hands fishing in his pockets for the message. _I just have to get to Mr. Shiro…huh?_

He had just been rounding the corner of the just-as-dreary C-9 building when he spotted several similarly smocked workers in front of a sewer grate. The screws that kept the grates fastened in place had been somehow loosened, if not outright taken out and placed in a pile on the ground nearby, away from the sewage puddle accumulated in front of it. As Keith watched, the small group of workers slowly opened the grates, looking over their shoulder before they began to crawl in. As they did, one alpha motioned to Keith, his hand waving him over; quickly and quietly, Keith ducked his head down and quickly jogged over to the grate, where he was pushed in.

“Don’t forget!” The man hissed to him as he landed face-first into a pile of something that wasn’t quite solid waste, but wasn’t quite liquid, either. “Back in 2 doboshes, before the watch comes!”

The smell of the sewer was beyond disgusting. It was nothing that Keith had ever smelled before, and it filled his nostrils up with its unaccountable stench even when he tried to breathe only through his mouth, causing the hairs within his nose to burn acutely. He wanted to vomit from the horrible putrefaction that overwhelmed every sense, and every other tick caused him to gag and heave from the smell. All around him, he could feel his hands sifting through piles of decomposed food slimy feces, tossed into these sump areas and piling up for phoebs and decaphoebs, if not entire centraphoebs. The further away from the C-5 complex, older and harder to move through the garbage and slush seemed to be-and the more unbearable the smell.

More than that, it was dark, just like the dark room of the C-Machine. Keith kept bumping into people, and if he didn’t run into the behind of someone, then he was hitting the hard, cold, flaking iron walls of the sewers. He could feel the scratches started to accumulate on his hands and especially his knuckles as the doboshes once more went by as slowly as his rate of crawling; if his hands weren’t infected yet with some unknown bacteria, it would be a miracle.

But he couldn’t complain. Not about this. He had only done this once, and may only do this a few more times in his entire lifetimes for all he knew. Meanwhile the alphas and betas had to do this every quintant. Who was he to complain?

Then, just before he was certain he was going to throw up from all of the horrible, obnoxious aromas that threatened to drown him in the darkness, he saw the light. Immediately, he pulled himself over to it; as he got closer, he realized that the light came from a torch-not a flashlight, but a real torch, with real fire flickering on top of a wooden stave wrapped in burlap. Though the light was faint, it was compensated by the proliferation of a torch every 50 paces. In comparison to what he had just been in, the torches were practically blinding, and Keith found himself shutting his eyes constantly to adjust them once more.

There was more, too. Instead of concrete or brick, everything in the place he had stumbled into was all rock, with multiple niches carved into them, big and small. Some niches, he saw as he walked forward on the lighted path, had fragile wooden boxes tucked in them. Others had bones, which he shuddered to look at-he’d never been so close to a skeleton since he was in school, and he had the feeling these bones were not plastic. Indeed, as he continued onwards, he found himself surrounded by walls full of bones, boxes, and urns.

A new, strange smell faintly wafted in the air as he continued on, and upon smelling it he had a realization. This was not a place built by his ancestors. At least, not his ancestors who ruled Zamyatin. No-this was a place built _over_ by them, a place that was carved out before the time before the End Tick. Instantly he found himself excited, curious, and afraid, all at the same time; such unknown knowledge of the world before, even if it was just a location like this, was forbidden by his grandfather. Only things approved by the Arch-Omega were allowed to be disseminated, and even then, many times it was only to certain groups of people. Alphas and betas would certainly have been punished severely for finding this underground graveyard, if they were ever found out.

How many more rules would he break before this expedition of his was done? He looked down at his hands, covered in scratched, black nitrate stains, and literal excrement. Would his grandfather even want to see him before he was tossed to the deepest bowels of the Ministry of Order, never to be seen or heard from again?

He would have to ponder that later, as he found himself alongside dozens of other men and women, all capped and in jumpsuits, as they slowly began to coagulate and thicken into a crowd the closer they got to a giant tympanum etched into and above the sides of the tunnel as it dramatically widened into an ancient nave, hewed right out of the rock. The closer to the tympanum, the more torches appeared to illuminate the area, revealing that the tympanum was designed in a way that allowed fan shapes etched into the ceiling to create a type of detailed and aesthetically pleasing, if perhaps not entirely necessary, rip vault. On each side were a set of columns with a spiral motif etched in relief upon their pillars; the capitals also had etched beautiful acanthus foliage into them.

Suddenly, all of the people around him began to kneel. No-they were sitting, taking their caps off, and Keith found himself standing alone. Looking around frantically, his eye caught what was just beyond the tympanum, and his heart froze.

Leaning against a wooden table, his face illuminated like a halo from the two torches and two candles that hung on each side, boyish grin on his lips, was Mr. Shiro himself.

“Hi there. You must be new.” Once more those eyes drew him in; once more, Keith felt his knees getting weak, his face flushing red, his heart skipping a beat. And _oh no his penis_. “Feel free to sit and get comfortable, beta. I promise this I’ll make this session quick.”

* * *

Shiro immediately knew that the man in Lance’s clothing wasn’t Lance.

Lance had been a fervent attendee of his talks for phoebs, and so Shiro would naturally know his face. The face of the man wearing Lance’s clothes was different. Paler, for one, with dark eyes that seemed violet one tick, dark grey the next, then blue even after that. He was also, to Shiro’s surprise, surprisingly handsome, in an ethereal way. It reminded Shiro a little of Phemonoe; albeit, the man wasn’t being painted as a woman, and the little bit of hair that Shiro could see beneath the cap was jet black. But the same timeless muscular structure was there, the same curve of a defined chin and thick, strong neck.

But-Shiro wasn’t there to ogle the newcomer. The newcomer had to have his reasons to be in Lance’s clothing. Maybe Lance was taking a break from the meetings to look after Allura-she was carrying fetal twins, and ones that came back as omegas on their SRY tests at that. If Shiro was in Lance’s place, he wouldn’t have wanted to leave Allura’s side outside of work and, perhaps, finding a means to best provide for and protect his mate.

In any case, he gave the newcomer another smile as they dazedly sat down, and he began to speak.

“Listen. I know many people around you are angry. I also know that you may be angry as well. A lot of you are wondering if the stories and tales I’ve told you stories and legends from the times before the End Tick, about people being driven apart by the world around them. If it’s time to show what you’re really made of when it comes to the omegas and how they have treated us, even since the founding of Zamyatin.” His flesh hand instinctively grasping his metallic one. “And the omegas…many of them support cruelty inflicted on us. This is true.”

There were murmurs in the crowd at this, before Shiro continued. Not-Lance, meanwhile, leaned in, eyes wide.

“But I know why that’s so. Omegas don’t know better. _We_ don’t know better.” Shiro began to pace. “For centraphoebs, every dynamic has been locked into a state of stagnation. Omegas live in unparalleled luxury and rule us, yes, but the truth is, they’ve been taught to embrace that life, just as we’ve been taught to obey. We all don’t know any better, because we don’t know anything else!”

He turned his head to his left, reaching out to those on that side. He could see Ryan in the back, poking James to stop picking his nose.

“We’ve all been ignorant-alphas, betas and omegas-all this time! Our problem has been right in front of us: we are all human, and we all speak the same language, and we all descend from the same group of survivors from the End Tick.”

His head turned right, his prosthetic reaching to those on the other side of the archway.

“Yet our society has become so focused on what dynamic we are-all of us, omegas included!-that it has also forced us to forget that our dynamics aren’t all that define us! We’ve forgotten that the End Tick didn’t happen because of alpha arrogance-it was because of _human_ arrogance! It was born from the inability to understand one another, even when we could speak the same language, and the reluctance to reach out to those different from us! It happened before, and look-it’s happening again! We are all trapped in the same cycle of ignorance as our ancestors, but for different reasons!”

The murmurs quieted; he had their attention. He took a deep breath.

“Our society has lost its way, and all of us are walking blind. But there’s _hope_ , I’ve _seen_ it. I’ve seen omegas who had treated your children the same way they would treat their own children. I’ve watched your children as they looked on the world above, and I’ve seen omegas respond, not with fear or revulsion, but with curiosity! Acceptance of us as equals-as people-it’s not impossible! We can achieve it through knowledge-we can achieve it through peaceful means!”

He threw his hands out.

“We all must meet halfway with one another. Omega with alpha, beta with omega. For too long, alphas and betas have always been seen as thinking with their fists, which always leads to violence. Omegas, they have been seen as thinking with their minds, which always lead to logic devoid of emotions. In order for us to be joined together-not as mere dynamics, but as the united human race we are destined to be!-we must begin thinking with our hearts!”

He brought his hands to his heart, his fists clenching against his shirt. He closed his eyes, lifting his head towards the ceiling.

“Our heart…it is the conciliator between the head and the hands. Soon…it will be through the heart that we will all come together, and we will all be as we were meant to be: in the light, together with our brethren on the surface. We shall be as brothers in arms all equal in each other’s eyes; I can feel it coming in my lifetime. Can’t you?”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around. There was complete silence, as the audience digested his words. He could see the understanding in their eyes, in their movements, as they sat. Some people looked at one another; others seemed more at ease, more at peace than they had been when they arrived. Meanwhile, in the center of the crowd, Shiro could see Not-Lance’s eyes start to sparkle as the other looked at him. There was a realization, an epiphany, in those beautiful eyes. It was nice to see, Shiro had to admit. In fact, _he_ was…nice to see.

_Oh dear._

Quickly, Shiro cleared his throat, just as another alpha-Ryner-stood up, staring up at him. She was, without a doubt, one of the oldest alphas that still survived in the Underground, and certainly the oldest to attend his meetings.

“But Shiro…will that time come soon? Will we truly be equal?” Her eyes were as hopeful as any youth, but the sagging beneath them betrayed her long experience with the system, accompanied with the great weariness that always hung heavy on those who were close to a centraphoeb. “You know that we can’t…live like this forever.”

“I know.” Shiro smiled back at her. “But patience yields focus. I’m sure it will come. I wouldn’t say such a thing, if I didn’t sincerely believe it myself.”

“Is that _so_?”

Shiro’s jaw tightened slightly as the alpha behind Ryner-Hira-leaped up, pointing a finger at Shiro as she grabbed the older alpha by the shoulder.

“We do not have the luxury of time to waste on vague hopes and dreams of a nebulous future!” The finger shook, as Shiro watched. “We’ll wait…but _not_ forever, Champion! Should the time to fight come before your little promise of peace is fulfilled...!!”

Deep breaths. In and out. Shiro nevertheless managed to keep his smile at the blatant ultimatum.

“I understand.” He nodded. “In the meantime, though, I hope to see you all next movement. I will see if I can find a way to speak to people in the city-and maybe even bring some of them down here to meet you all. Until then...”

* * *

Zarkon followed Honerva down into the darkness, for what felt like an eternity. Unlike his alpha, he was not used to the rocky and uneven terrain of the natural ground; meanwhile, Honerva seemed to float all the way to their destination, with Kova perfectly balanced on her shoulder. It was not in the nave of the old shrine itself, but in an eroded alcove far above it, where they could watch what was happening without notice. There was no predicting whether they would rune into a horde of alphas and betas on the floor who likely despised him, as Honerva helpfully pointed out.

Indeed, Zarkon’s blood pressure began to spike as he saw the hundreds of workers- _his_ workers-sitting and listening to seditious claptrap. Equality? Human arrogance as opposed to alpha arrogance as the real problem? Peace between the dynamics without force? Impossible. Alphas were the problem, they always had been. What Omegas gave them was a mercy-without the limits imposed, they and their beta bootlickers would most assuredly destroy themselves, along with the Omegas, as they had done before.

If that hadn’t been enough, though, the sight of the alpha that was preaching such nonsense was enough to possibly give him a stroke-if he had been a lesser man. As it was, he couldn’t help the angry growl that came out of his mouth.

“ _Champion_.” There wasn’t enough existing vocabulary to describe the hatred he felt towards the smiling, white-haired alpha that now hypocritically spoke of peace. “So _this_ is where you have been.”

“Champion?” Next to him, Honerva tilted her head. “I was certain that the current Champion of the Yoshiwara Arena was a brunette, and certainly not so tall or pale.”

“Not _this_ Champion.” It was taking all of his willpower to not start screaming out into the nave, to scream at Honerva, to take his anger out on anything that was in his grasp. “ _This_ Champion is 11798-75.”

“…Ooooh, yes. The light-haired alpha so popular with the Yoshiwara crowd some time back.” A grin spread on Honerva’s lips-no doubt enjoying his fury. “Commander Sendak’s favorite, was he not? Quite the charismatic and handsome one, even now.”

That elicited a growl from him. He couldn’t help it-Sendak had been his right-hand man. His cousin, his friend, his blood. The greatest Omega to ever run the Ministry of Order. All those things-and two decaphoebs ago, he had been brutally murdered in his home, with his most prized alpha slave fleeing straight after. 

Zarkon remembered the moment he walked into that room all too well-what remained of his cherished comrade’s head was unrecognizable brain and skin paste splattered on the floor near his body; the few servants in the room who hadn't fled the house cowered in horror, and those not chipped vividly spoke to the Ministry’s detectives of the bloody ferocity the Champion exhibited while he unapologetically bashed Sendak’s head in. 

Yet despite the fact that Zarkon and those in his innermost circle knew it was precisely him who was responsible, the Ministry of Order could never find Sendak’s killer. Somehow, his chip no longer registered his presence no matter how advanced the search, and so it was that he vanished without a trace into the night. The case was considered cold within the movement; the culprit was uncaught, and thus justice was unserved. 

And now, that very alpha-the alpha who Sendak had lifted up from Yoshiwara and the Ministry of Science, and given fine clothes and good food, in exchange for doing only what Sendak asked of him, the alpha who repaid that kindness with death-was not only free, not only alive, but _there_ , right in front of him, trying to undermine him and his authority.

He wouldn’t stand for it. He would stop this affront to himself; he would avenge Sendak. And he immediately knew just how to do it.

“Honerva.” He turned away, his voice low in a way that did not brook defiance, even from an alpha. “I want you to give your Robeast the essence of that... _thing_ speaking such about my city.”

She hissed at this suggestion, and Kova as well did at the same time; he managed to ignore it and continued, his hands clenching into fists.

“Yes-I will destroy Champion for his impertinence and his crimes. I will destroy him and those who follow him. I will show those who dare to leave the Underground and those who dare to think of dynamic equality that their belief in this man is folly, and then, I will crush them all so absolutely that no alpha or beta will ever dare defy me or my descendants!” His fists shook violently as he turned to look at Honerva, who stared him down with a look that would have surely killed lesser Omegas. “In return, my alpha…after I am finished. You may have your Robeast, and you may give it whatever likeness you wish. And then I will leave you and it alone, forever, to do as you will.”

The glare softened, as Honerva seemed to consider her options. After an eternal dobosh, she finally brought her hand up, and her fingers curled around his hand, shaking it.

“It shall be as you wish, then...my Omega.”

“Excellent.” The Arch-Omega took a deep breath. “Now, whatever resources you need to ensure everything is done to its maximum effect, I shall provide. Whatever you need me to do to ensure my will is done, my dear, simply say it. And make sure to keep me updated on your progress.”

“Oh, I will, but right now?” Kova rubbed against Honerva’s neck as she responded. “I must consider how I shall acquire Champion for this mission. You, Omega, should return to your castle immediately.”

“For what reason?”

“It is late, and you will be missed by everyone if you are gone too long, won’t you? I _must_ insist, Omega.” Honerva smiled at him, and Zarkon could feel himself stiffen, wishing to obey even as he tried to fight the instinct. “Go on, now. I’m certain you’ll find your way back.”

For a moment, Zarkon hesitated. The more he did, though, the more he realized that, yes, his alpha was right. He’d been gone for several vargas from Central Command, and his prolonged absence would raise questions. Finally, he gave his bond-mate a stiff nod and turned to leave. Honerva would keep her promise, he was certain. As for him?

As for him, he had work to do.

He had to prepare to crush a rebellion. 

* * *

After Shiro concluded his sermon-such as it was-there was some grumbling from Hira, and some of her more vocal cohorts, but otherwise, everyone quietly nodded, looking at one another as they began to depart. Shiro could see that his congregation, for the most part, seemed to walk with their backs a little straighter, and their heads just a little higher. For him, those small, subtle changes were giant steps forward. It was the beginning of the reclamation of dignity that had been long throttled out of his brethren.

He smiled, closing his eyes and nodding. Yes. The changes were happening. It really felt like things could become better, with time. That there could be peace between the tensions without force, if people would just stop and listen and talk to one another with clear hearts.

Then he opened his eyes, and Not-Lance was right in front of him, eyes wide and cheeks burning. And that was when he caught the scent. It was faint, and really, if one wasn’t seeking it out, one wouldn’t smell it. But Not-Lance was not even a foot in front of him, looking more hopeful than he’d seen anyone before with those exotic eyes. Eyes that somehow started to look familiar the longer Shiro found himself looking into them.

And the smell-the smell of elderberry with the undertone of petrichor. It was sweet and clean and surprisingly deep. It was also a very, _very_ omega scent.

“… _Oh_.” Shiro’s eyes widened. He could feel his crotch start to itch, just a little. “You’re…”

At this, the omega’s cheeks flushed brightly, and without warning he went to clasp Shiro’s flesh hand.

“Mr. Shiro. Or…just Shiro? I don’t know.” His hands were warm and soft like silk. Shiro looked down at them, unable to wrest his arm away. Indeed, his fingers wrapped around the new cuts on the omega’s knuckles as the other continued. “My name is Keith, and…I have _so many questions_.”


	5. IV

“Keith.”

Shiro repeated the name, rolling it on his tongue and bringing it into his mind. A good, strong name for an omega-an old name, from before the End Tick. It meant many things-wind, wood, battle, strength. It was also a very familiar name-one associated with a very specific omega.

Could it be? Was it even possible that this was _that_ Keith? The Keith who would, one quintant, come to rule Zamyatin? It seemed a great coincidence otherwise.

“I’m Shiro, but…it looks like you already knew that.” Keeping his smile on his face, forcing his inward nerves down as far as he possibly could, Shiro watched as the omega kept a hold of his flesh hand. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Shiro, though-that’s what the kids call me when I’m looking after them.”

“That’s how I know of you!” Keith bobbed his head, up and down. “You were with the children, and you came to the Parnassus. You spoke of equality, you scared Dayak off, and then…”

The omega’s face began to flush red, even as he smiled.

“You, uh, you winked at me. Do you remember?”

 _Oh._ That was-

Shiro’s eyes widened; he _did_ remember that from yesterquintant. He remembered going to the club, with a large group of the L-Machine’s children, while their parents were off to work. He had given them a tour of the city above-which, in every case, was the first time any of them had ever seen the sun, or outside, or anything beyond the stone and sewage of the Underground. He wanted to teach the kids how omegas lived, in hopes that he might cause, not resentment, but a sense of wonder. To show, even in a small, simple way, that the alpha and beta children in his care might see the omegas as more than just cruel taskmasters; to show the omegas that alphas and betas weren’t just destructive animals.

He’d gone to the Parnassus, as he’d done several times before as an accessory to his omega owner, to show the children there the garden. As he got through the door, he’d actually seen the cute omega sitting at the bar, looking completely disinterested in the nymph trying to hit on him. He’d had the same eyes as the man now in front of him possessed, and though he wasn’t close enough to see the light as it played with and changed the irises as he was now, he could see they were still very beautiful eyes. Then, after flustering Dayak (she always _had_ been very tightly wound up, and it was admittedly amusing to see that nothing had changed over the decaphoebs), he had given the man a little playful wink.

Well. Now that man was in front of him, with the name of Keith, and oh _quiznak_ , it just hit him-this really _was_ the Arch-Omega’s heir. It couldn’t be anyone else. Now it was Shiro’s turn to go completely beet red and sheepish as he let out an embarrassed laugh.

“Well, I…” He scratched the back of his head with his metal hand as he tried to articulate a coherent response. “I was feeling a little playful when we were leaving the club. Couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s ok.” The omega’s hold on his hand tightened, just slightly. “The fact you did what you did…I’d never seen an alpha act like that before. It made me curious about…what things were really like for you and people like you.”

Then, the omega’s grip loosened, and his head went down.

“I…I don’t like what I’ve been seeing.” He let go of Shiro’s hand, then walked towards the steps leading to the table, before sitting down. “It’s like everything I’ve ever known was a lie. I never knew alphas could be curious, or kind, or…could suffer so much.”

Shiro’s eyes softened at this. The way that Keith’s face became so downcast, the way his tone took on a pain that few omegas were allowed to know-it was clear that whatever else had happened since the previous quintant, it had affected him dearly. Also, the fact that he was wearing Lance’s clothing, taking Lance’s place when no omega in their right mind would-he had a feeling Keith was more than ready to want to do something good, to understand, and to react. Not just for himself or for other omegas, but for everyone. It meant that Shiro’s actions really did have a positive outcome-someone had actually _listened_.

After everything that had happened before for him, that was probably the best outcome the alpha could possibly ask for. Quietly, he walked over to Keith, bringing his flesh hand out once more.

“Keith. How about we go for a walk?” Keith’s head bolted up, eyes wide with surprise. Shiro smiled. “We can talk if you’d like. You did say you have questions, so I can only hope I’ve got some answers for you.”

Shiro watched as Keith smiled once more, nodding as the other grasped his hand, allowing Shiro to pull him up. He didn’t know whether it was the prospect of speaking to someone so important in the Zamyatin hierarchy, or whether it was because of the omega’s genuine interest and empathy that was practically radiating off of him, or even because this omega was so kind, and gentle, and-as his primal alpha mind of so helpfully supplied-not just a little pretty, that made his heart thump in his chest as he invited Keith to follow him down away from the nave and into a tunnel, armed with a torch taken from one of the holders along the way. Maybe it was all of that, and more.

But Shiro found himself really, _really_ liking Keith, even in so short a time. He could only hope that he wouldn’t ruin whatever was fast developing between them-like he’d ruined so much, and so many others, in the past.

* * *

Honerva had watched as Zarkon left, his purpose clearly set. Like always, he always seemed to know what to do. Always surging forward for his city, without regard to who or what got in his way. It was that ambition and pride in himself had been the thing that had originally drawn her to him, long ago, when she was but a young, unassuming alpha, tinkering with Voltron itself when she thought no one was looking. But he had been looking, and when she was caught, she was not given over to the Ministry of Order to be prepared for Processing, as she expected, but brought instead to the Alcázar, where Zarkon waited for her.

They had so much in common back then, and she couldn’t deny that she, also, had her own pride, her own ambitions. Her own dreams to change the city with her own hands-a concept which few of her station could ever possibly fathom. Together, they could accomplish so many things-and they did, even if Honerva knew she would never receive the credit for it. That she had achieved a mating bond with him had been proof enough that, even if the city was his, _he_ was _hers_.

Now, so many decaphoebs later, that same pride and ambition she had loved in him had become an albatross she was forced to endure. Her son had been taken, and then killed, and it was all his fault. Yet he never stopped to even mourn him. He simply pushed forward, continued to squeeze his grip ever tighter over the city, while denying everything she did for him, everything he had taken from her-and denying her. Now, once more, he was taking her son once more, for his own purposes, as if everything were still as it had been.

She wouldn’t allow it. Not unless she’d taken her pound of flesh from him, for everything he had put her through and taken from her.

And as she cast her gaze back towards the scene in the shrine below, her eyes lit up at the sight.

The Champion was down there, along with one other. The one with him, talking and looking at the alpha-with burgeoning love, as if he were the only one in the entirety of the world-was a boy. No-not just _any_ boy. The Arch-Omega’s heir.

Pure glee began to course through her veins, and she had to cover her mouth with her hands to keep from laughing. Of course. The answer was _right there_ , in front of her. It was love. Love had brought her to Zarkon, only for him to discard it when it no longer suited him. Love had brought her, then lost her, Lotor; it had then brought Lotor back, by her hand alone. Now, Zarkon was asking her to use the love between the masses and their newfound preacher of peace to destroy them.

But she would do more than that. Far, _far_ more. She would take this task, and with it, she would destroy everything Zarkon truly loved, until it was nothing more than ash and smoke and fire beneath his feet.

She would break, and then destroy his city-and his legacy.

Next to her, Kova mewled pitifully.

“Ah, yes.” She pulled the cat off of her shoulder and placed him down, petting him as she spoke to him with a soothing whisper. “You, Kova, who I have built up a psychic bond with through my quintessence research. Become my eyes and ears in the places I do not dwell once more. Become my shadow as you shadow my targets…follow the Champion and the Arch-Omega’s heir, so that I may use them for the great task at hand. Do not let them out of your sight, whatever you do. Go!”

Without a tick of hesitation, her loyal cat bolted out of her hands, dashing with practiced quickness into the darkness of the tunnels. Honerva closed her eyes, allowing herself to indulge in her mind’s eye, where she could see what her cat did. The twists and turns of the caverns. The bones of the dead. Eventually, the faint light of torches.

Now she would watch-and wait to strike.

* * *

Keith watched as Mr.—as Shiro led him on, torch flaring as he gently swerved to avoid centraphoebs-old bone piles along the way. As the moments passed, the bones began to give way to dusty asphalt , pocked with holes and fissures born from erosion and disuse. Keith stumbled on the way, nearly tripping over a particularly deep pothole.

“Got you!” Instantly, strong arms grabbed him, and Keith looked up to Shiro’s sheepish, apologetic smile. “Sorry, I keep forgetting not everyone is used to coming this way.”

Both he and Keith chuckled, their eyes staring at one another a few ticks longer than prudent. Not that Keith minded. He didn’t think Shiro did, either.

“It’s ok.” Finally, Keith used Shiro as a brace in order to straighten himself up. “I’ve never been down here before, after all. This is my first time.”

“…Not for me.” Shiro looked away, holding his torch up to continue lead. He turned towards the right, then knelt down and crawled through a hole. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there!”

_Almost there? Almost where-_

Keith’s heart stopped when he saw what there was in front of him, and in front of Shiro, once they emerged from the small tunnel. It was a massive cave, held up by a myriad of steel columns, all in various conditions of decay. Some were rusted beyond salvation, while other beams looked as good as knew, holding up floors that seemed to suspend in the air if one looked at it from just the right angle. All around were partly collapsed walls and utterly cracked windows, all of it covered in dust. Desks and books lay strewn about, crinkled and yellowed with age, while small metal drawers lay in diagonal piled on top of one another. Near the bottom of the cave floor, there were strange life-sized plastic dolls, all in myriad positions and wearing strange dresses and suits, their lifeless eyes looking upward. Brown bricks and shards were scattered everywhere along with hundreds of other small, mostly-intact sundries, and a neon sign, long dead and cracked, read _ARROD_ from the top downwards.

“Wow.” Keith had to bring his hand up to close his mouth as he looked around. “Is this…?”

“It is.” Shiro hopped down to the bottom of the cave with ease. After putting his torch down, he went about with helping Keith down with a pull of the hand. “This is from before the End Tick. One of many areas down here filled with our ancient history! It’s also one of the more intact places I’ve found since I’ve been down here…”

Keith looked up at Shiro as he looked around. He watched his eyes as they looked around, an almost wistful, distant look in his expression. He looked even more beautiful-but that wasn’t why he was here. He had to focus.

“How long have you been down here?” Keith forced himself to look away from the alpha and over to a pile of the giant plastic dolls. “Were you ever up in the city before you came yesterquintant?”

“…Yes.” The answer was slow, reluctant. “Yes I have been up there. Actually, I was up there for a long time…a very long time.”

“You were?” A servant, perhaps? “What did you do? And…is that how you got that arm?”

Shiro took a deep breath as he walked over to a ruined desk, and his body leaned against it. Keith watched as he looked up at the ceiling of the cave, before looking back at Keith with those eyes of his, beneath those snow-white bangs.

“Keith…I’m not going to lie.” After an eternal silence, Shiro closed his eyes. “I don’t know how, but you trusted me enough to come down here, to see me and try and understand what the dynamics that came from down here go through. I don’t want to keep you in the dark about me, or…give you the wrong idea of who I am. You know?”

That wistfulness had dissolved into weariness-the same weariness that had permeated all of the alphas and betas that surrounded Keith in the C-Machine, that had replaced the dead in the E-Machine. He wondered if his servants had the same deep fatigue, even if he had never gone out of his way to treat them particularly wrong. At least, he didn’t treat them badly so far as he knew.

“You…” Shiro’s flesh hand clenched onto the desk. “Might have noticed that some of the group referred to me as 'Champion'.”

“Yeah.” Keith frowned. “Why did they call you that?”

“…You don’t watch the Arena fights, I take it.”

Keith’s eyes widened at the mention of the Arena. As in, the Yoshiwara Arena. He knew of it-the legendary gladiatorial battles that were started up by the famous Myzax Yoshiwara, in the middle of what had originally been the solitary red-light district of Zamyatin, inside a run-down former strip club. In the present, those took place in the massive dome illuminated with bright lights, in a stadium capable of holding every citizen Omega in Zamyatin. It was there that gladiators-always alphas-would fight, sometimes to the death, sometimes to the first cut. They would fight against other alphas, against massive beasts genetically designed for the fights called Amalgamations, or against Omega criminals unlucky to be condemned to the Arena.

The sex appeal that had originally made the red-light district so attractive, however, was still there. They said alphas in the Arena were muscular, glistening with sweat, and popular as eye candy on holographic cards and videos passed around by adoring fans. Many gladiators ended up in the bed of influential Omegas, and that wasn’t even counting if they were designated Champion. To be Champion was to be undefeated.

But despite knowing about the Arena, Keith himself never watched. Only once did he see it, when he was only six, and he remembered it as clearly as if it had happened yesterquintant. His grandfather and a few of his close cohorts had turned it on and made Keith watch. It had been an alpha in the ring, fighting against an Amalgamation, and the Amalgamation had torn the alpha apart. It had been so violent, so graphic, that Keith had screamed and cried and had nightmares about it for phoebs afterwards. He’d never watched any Arena matches after that, not even after his classmates or his acquaintances urged him to, called him chicken when he refused.

“…Is that…” Keith swallowed. “Is that how you lost your arm?”

“...No.” Shiro’s flesh hand went to his metallic arm. “The Ministry of Science did that to me.”

“What? _Why_?”

“Experiments.” Shiro closed her eyes. “When I was young…I was sent to one of the Lyceums to be trained as a house alpha, but the headmasters found out that I had a rare degenerative illness that was affecting my muscles and nervous system. That’s how I first got their attention, so they chipped me and hauled me in. The doctors at the Ministry wanted to see if they could test cures for it, and whatever else they wanted to do, on me. That included cutting off any part of my body affected. And when those failed, they would experiment on my genes using quintessence. I…I couldn’t tell you everything they did. I kind of…blacked most of it out of my memory. But it’s also why my hair is the way it is. I’ve never been able to get my old hair color back after all these years. I don’t want to sound like I’m pitying myself, just I lost…more than I care to think about.”

The smile that formed on Shiro’s face this time was pained, and his hand tightened around the metal arm. Something told Keith that there was more to it than he let on, that he remembered more than he cared to admit. But Keith could hardly blame Shiro for not wanting to talk about something so raw with someone he’d only just met.

“They threw me into the Arena after that, expecting me to die. But the Ministry’s experiments on me worked a bit _too_ well. They made me stronger than I had ever been before, so I survived. I hated that I survived, but the chip made me compliant throughout, so I couldn’t just end my misery and be done with it. And then…I was bought.”

“Bought?”

“By Sendak.”

If Keith’s eyes weren’t wide before, they were now. He knew who Sendak was. If his grandfather had been the greatest Omega of the city, one who towered over other Omegas, Sendak was a close-enough second-greatest. He was a cousin of the Melanochaitra family, and the commander of the Ministry of Order. He was almost as feared as the Arch-Omega as a result, and even more ruthless. Keith had heard rumors about what Sendak was capable of, towards alphas, betas, and Omegas. Even Sendak’s wife and child, some whispered, didn’t die in a fiery kitchen accident involving a bunch of stupid alpha servants who forgot to turn the oven off-but by Sendak’s own hand, in a place so deep within the Ministry of Order that no one would ever find their bodies. He was also rumored-not in earshot of him, of course-to take the quintessence steroid known as Flux, a substance which had been made illegal before Keith was born due to how dangerous it was, but was also the only explanation that could easily account for his legendary-and abnormally-massive physique.

Nothing had ever been substantiated, not to Keith. But the fact such things were said, even around him, and was enough to imply that there was a kernel of truth to everything whispered about him in both life and death. More than that, Keith could at least confirm one of those rumors-when he had been in academy, Sendak had shot a whole kilo of Flux up, right in the middle of a dinner party at the Alcázar, and had even tried to make Keith take some. It was to compensate for his much slighter, weaker build unbecoming of a future Omega leader, he’d said. Keith refused, but despite Sendak’s actions happening during one of those rare times Zarkon attended a dinner party, he didn’t get into any trouble for it. Not then, and not ever.

The fact that Shiro had been in Sendak’s grasp-and survived-was astounding at the very least.

“You were…you were with Sendak.” Whatever awful things he could think of as to what Sendak might have done to him, he knew it might not have even begun to actually touch what Shiro went through. “Did…is he the one who…”

He pointed to the scar on Shiro’s face; quietly, Shiro nodded.

“He wanted to show me off.” The pain in Shiro’s face deepened. “Whenever he went out, I went with him. I was his accessory. His perfect, strong little alpha that he could show off, without fighting back even though I fought in the Arena. And he was right-I couldn’t fight back against him. My chip was always there, and it wouldn’t allow me to do anything my Omega didn’t want me to…to do. I had to obey him, no…no matter…”

Shiro’s eyes widened, glazed over as the ticks passed by, and he began to lock up against the desk.

“Shiro?”

Shiro didn’t respond. Indeed, He didn’t even seem to notice that Keith was there. His breaths began to come out in short, quick succession, and soon enough, his body began to shake violently. Slowly, he fell to his knees letting out a sound that was more akin to a dying animal than the man that was in front of him.

“Shiro!!” Instantly, Keith was falling right next to him. “What’s wrong? What-”

He was given no response. Indeed, when Keith went to touch his shoulder, Shiro seemed to bend in further into himself, letting out high-pitched whimpers that almost sounded like it could have been begging. Keith didn’t know what he was begging, or why he was begging. All Keith knew was that Shiro was suffering from some phantom pain that he couldn’t begin to comprehend. Soon, drops of water began falling onto the rocks from Shiro’s face, turning them two shades darker.

After multiple doboshes of indecipherable words passing through Shiro’s lips, he finally relaxed, almost collapsing into Keith’s arms. His brow was covered in cold sweat, and he was practically gulping air.

“Shiro…”

“’M sorry,” Shiro managed to gasp. “Forgive me, Omega. I…I do not like remembering those times.”

“It’s ok.” Keith gave him an awkward hug. “It’s all right. Commander Sendak can’t get you again. He’s dead.”

“…I know.” 

Slowly, Shiro pushed Keith off of him, leaving them both sitting in a pile in front of the ancient desk. Beneath Shiro’s bangs, Keith watched his eyes narrow.

“I know he’s dead.” There was a hardness, a darkness that entered Shiro’s eyes. “He was murdered.”

“Yeah.” Keith nodded. “Yeah, it was a really big deal upside, given who he was. He was murdered by his-”

He stopped himself, realization hitting him like thunder. He remembered back to the headlines on the holographs, remembered reading the articles and seeing the news the quintant Sendak’s body was discovered. Remembered how gruesome it had been described, as if the murder in and of itself wasn’t horrible. He’d been hit in the back with a blunt object. He’d been stabbed multiple times. His head had even been cut off and smashed. His grandfather, never a warm or empathetic man, was left a wailing mess for quintants after the discovery. That his killer was never caught, even to that quintant, was considered a stain on the Ministry of Order’s reputation.

But he also remembered who they had accused of it.

_His nameless alpha servant, who they say Sendak had lifted up and had given so much to._

Keith’s arms dropped from Shiro’s side, and he slumped back, stunned. He wasn’t sure whether to be scared, terrified, or angry at that tick.

“Shiro, did _you_ -?”

“I told you, Keith. I won’t lie to you.” The grin that now came onto Shiro’s face was not a happy one. Indeed, his eyes were misty. “My life has not been a happy one, and the things I’ve done…I did to survive. Including murder.”

_Then, it’s true._

“You have every right to fear me. You have every right to leave and turn me into the authorities, if that’s what you want to do.” Shiro sounded tired. “But I won’t apologize for what happened. For what I did to that man.”

“But… _how_?” Keith’s fists clenched. “How could you even…you were chipped. You said so yourself. Chipped alphas…they can’t fight back! They can’t even speak!”

“They can’t. You’re right.” Shiro’s shoulders sagged. “But that’s only as long as the chip is working. Mine…I couldn’t tell you exactly why or how, but one quintant, I…I was struck so hard by Sendak in the back of the head that I blacked out for two whole movements. When I woke up, I found I could speak. I could _think_ , and do it clearly, after so many decaphoebs of being unable to do anything of my own free will. And then…I came upon Sendak with…one of his other alphas…what he did to her was…”

Shiro took a deep breath, licking his lips as a tear managed to escape, and whatever indignation Keith had felt began to melt away. It was true, Shiro was a murderer, and a high-profile one at that. But it was _also_ true that Sendak wasn’t exactly known for being kind. Nor was Zamyatin in general kind to alphas or betas, those people who Omegas were raised to believe could be used however they wanted. Even the mass death of the lower dynamics were dismissed, downplayed, seen as an irritant and then forgotten entirely.

For him to condemn Shiro, Keith realized, would be so hypocritical as to be utterly criminal.

“…I tried to protect her from what he was doing to her. I failed. But Sendak didn’t expect me to fight when I came over afterwards, when he ordered me to clean the mess he'd made up.” Shiro pointed to the scar over his nose. “This was from him, during that fight. He almost killed me-he was so pumped with Flux that no matter how many times I stabbed him or hit him, he didn’t even flinch. I had to grab a sword out of his collection, and…” Shiro swallowed. “I kept at it until he stopped moving. That was it. I fled after that, and once I found myself in the catacombs, I vowed never again.”

“Never again?”

“…I would never again kill another man. Not even if my life depended on it.” Shiro’s voice shook slightly. “All my life had been violence and cruelty, Keith, all of it against my own wishes. I was tired of it. I wanted nothing more to do with the world, if that violence was all there was to living in Zamyatin. I'd have rather lived out my life alone down here, where I could at least keep my own autonomy. I...I couldn't handle the thought of going back. I didn't want to return, ever again.”

“…But you came back,” Keith pointed out. “You didn’t withdraw after all.”

“…I did come back, eventually.” Shiro slowly looked up at Keith. “The ruins here have so much about the world before. It’s incredible just…how much someone can learn about how things were before, how things were so different, yet so similar at the same time. I read books, looked through the artifacts. It showed me all about how all the dynamics had lived together, worked together, during the time leading up to the End Tick. How they might not have even seen one another as dynamics, because there’s so little about that-perhaps they didn’t know what we know now, or maybe…maybe dynamics didn’t even exist back then. I’m still not entirely sure…there’s so little left, compared to what must have existed…”

There was a wistfulness in Shiro’s voice as he said that, and Keith felt his throat go dry as he swallowed. After a dobosh, the alpha continued.

“They…also talk about how humans developed misunderstandings, grew to hate and mistrust each other, not because of dynamics, but because of something they called nationalism.” He brought his hand down into the debris, bringing up rocks. “Imagine this is the city. But look at the rocks. The city back then was being different countries, with different groups based entirely on where you were born, or the color of your skin, or religious belief, or even who you voted for in elections- _elections_ , they actually changed leaders constantly and freely, and they weren't always from the same families, either!

“And...because they weren’t united, they began to fight one another. The countries each thought they were better than the others, deserved more than the others, and those weaker nations who resented the stronger nations began to fight. They thought that they could survive whatever happened. But by doing that they forgot that…they shared a world, shared economies and food and land, and whatever happened to the world, everyone, not just one or two groups, would reap what was sown. If one fell, they all would.” Slowly, Shiro tilted his hand, and indeed, all of the rocks fell to the ground with a clatter. “So, in the end, when the End Tick happened, they died as they lived-together. And reading about that…reading about the truth…it changed everything for me.”

Given how Shiro’s words, and how his mere presence, had been almost profound for Keith, Keith could only ponder how Shiro had felt when he first struck upon that epiphany. Did he feel the same welling of emotions from his stomach, the same strange tingling in his spin, the same, sudden shaking of the hands as truth coursed through him? Was it stronger? It must have been.

“I promised, Keith.” Shiro went to hold Keith’s hands, hesitated. Keith closed the gap and wrapped his fingers around Shiro’s, be it skin and bones or pure metal. “I made a vow that I wouldn’t let the world we lived in end up the same way. I vowed I would find a way to stop the system of defining us by our dynamics from destroying everyone again. To bring not just equality, but peace-if I could see even a small step taken in my lifetime towards that goal…I could die happy knowing I made a difference.”

“You really want that.”

“I do.” Shiro’s voice softened. “Is that what _you_ want?”

“I…I want…”

Keith’s grip on Shiro’s hands tightened. He could see the way that Shiro’s eyes lit up as he spoke-he could see the hope that illuminated his face, even in the faint torch flame. It made Shiro seem less like the broken Champion, the fugitive alpha, and more like of an enlightened, youthful, even saintly gyrovague. He was telling the truth, Keith knew. And more than that, he was _beautiful_ , just like the truth was, scars and all. As his face got closer to his, Keith’s nose picked up the alpha’s scent. It was a deep smell of grass and dew in the cool morning, combined with sunflower and maple. It was so fresh and pure, unlike any aroma he’d ever perceived before.

_I want peace…equality…happiness…_

Before he knew it, his lips had met Shiro’s. It was a quick peck, nothing more, but Shiro’s lips were like callused silk. His Omega instincts purred, and he found himself hungering for more. To be taken by this strong, sensitive alpha, to be gently brought down into the dirt and mud and glass, to be thrust into and rutted until Shiro’s seed had filled him. To scream Shiro’s name, again and again, and calling Shiro his alpha. Having Shiro call Keith his Omega.

_But also, I want you._

But he pulled himself back before he gave into those instincts. Shiro, for his part, also leaned away, staring back at Keith, eyes widened and cheeks dusted with pink. He looked just as flustered as Keith felt.

“I’m sorry.” Keith slowly swallowed. “I’m sorry, I should have asked first-”

“No, I…it’s ok.” Shiro let out a huff. “Don’t be sorry. I didn’t mind at-”

A meow interrupted them. Keith turned to see an emaciated black cat with orange and purple stripes, its head tilted at them as its tail swished back and forth.

“…Huh.” Keith crawled over to pet the cat; it responded with a purr. “Hey there. Who are you? You a friend of Shiro’s?”

“No.” Shiro slowly stood up, and even though he couldn’t see it, Keith could feel the frown on the other’s face. “Odd. I’ve never seen that cat down here before.”

“Really? That’s-”

Suddenly, the cat bolted away from him with a loud, hissing meow, and that was followed by the sudden, ear-splitting sound of rocks exploding.

“ _Keith_! Watch out-”

Shiro grabbed Keith and pulled him away from the falling debris. Keith managed to cover his eyes, but then the tell-tale sound of gears whirling beneath smooth metal chest plates. The glow of purple visors began to fill the area with the sickly light of mechanically pumped quintessence, and the sound of lasers charging soon followed.

 _No._ Keith’s heart began to pound as the debris fully cleared. _NO!_

There were two dozen robot sentries staring down at them, ready to strike. Sentries-the mechanical might of the Ministry of Order, when real manpower was too precious to send. Despite their basic programming, they were quick, precise, and deadly.

And they had caught Keith and Shiro. He could feel the trepidation in Shiro’s form as the other immediately pushed him away from the sentries, and behind him–a natural alpha instinct, it was said, when it came to their Omegas, back before the End Tick, when the alphas were supposedly in charge. Keith would have been flattered, if the situation was not so sudden and dire.

“…Keith.” Shiro bent down low, like a tiger ready to pounce. “I’m going to distract them. When I do, you get out.”

“Shiro, there’s no way I’m leaving you-!”

“I don’t know how they found this place,” Shiro grimaced as he turned to face Keith. “But I’m not going to let you get hurt because of me. Not if I can help it!”

Keith watched as Shiro’s metal fist began to glow the same bright purple light as the sentries, until his hand emanated heat as hot as lava. Keith gasped in horror as he realized what the alpha was doing. He was using the quintessence in his prosthetic to overheat it, to turn it into a weapon. But it couldn’t last, and eventually, Shiro would be using his own life force to keep the power up. There was an all-to-likely possibility that Shiro would grow weak and collapse eventually-or worse.

“Shiro-”

“Go!”

“I can’t leave you-”

“ ** _GO!_** ”

In that tick, Shiro’s was the tone of a true alpha. It was authoritative, commanding, and brooked no argument. The tone was enough to make Keith obey, at least for a tick. He began to run as Shiro leaped into the fray. The robots all closed in, only for two of them to be sliced open by the brightly glowing hand. Another tried to shoot him; he kicked the laser away so hard, the sentry’s entire hand flew off in sparks. It was clear, as Keith edged his way up from the pit and towards the now gaping hole, that Shiro wasn’t called Champion for nothing. His form was fast, his attacks precise, and the results deadly. Like a killer ballerina wielding a lethal pirouette, Shiro whirled around to face his next opponent.

He was met with a gun to the face, and Keith couldn’t stop himself from throwing his own body into the fray.

“KEITH!”

“Leave him alone!!” Keith began to pull the sentry he’d landed on away from the fray. “ _LEAVE MY ALPHA ALO-_ ”

The next thing happened so quickly Keith didn’t have time to react. One tick, he was trying to wrestle a robot away from Shiro; the next, he was being flung like a rag doll into hard stone head-first.”

“ ** _KEITH!! NOOO!!_** ”

He could barely hear Shiro’s heart-rending scream, and he did not witness the sentries rush in as the alpha tried to reach out towards him. He didn’t see Shiro’s struggle as he thrashed against his captors, throwing his glowing hand at any direction he could send it, even while they dragged him away from the cave with overwhelming strength. Nor did he witness the cat hop down from where it was hiding, letting out a hiss towards his prone body as it bolted away, unseen, into the darkness.

No-all Keith knew after the impact was a quiet, eerie darkness, and his own fading thoughts crying out for Shiro even as he drowned in the black of blissful unconsciousness. 

* * *

It was done.

Honerva watched the hologram, bony hands folded, as the Champion was brought to heel by the Ministry sentries she’d all too easily commandeered. Oh, he struggled still, especially after the unfortunate knock that the Omega had sustained. He tried to escape, tried to use his prosthetic. But that was getting a little bit annoying-if he kept struggling, the chance he would be injured increased exponentially. The alpha needed to be in full health, and simultaneously at optimal levels of quintessence, for her plan to work.

“Inject 100cc of tranquilizer. I want the prisoner to be compliant when he arrives.”

She casually pressed a button on her console, and immediately a needle with glowing yellow liquid was pressed into the white-haired prisoner’s neck. As soon as the needle released its load, he instantly went limp, eyes wide and blown as they stared up at the ceiling. It was a good sign that he was still receptive to quintessence manipulation-just as he’d clearly been susceptible to it in the past. It meant that controlling him for her purposes would be very easy indeed.

Several doboshes later, Kova was hopping into her lap, purring as he rolled into a ball.

“Yes, yes, you’ve done an excellent job,” she murmured as she rubbed behind his ears. “Perfect.”

She didn’t give a second thought to Zarkon’s bleeding Omega grandson, laying on the ground, as she stroked the animal. If he lived, it was no consequence. If he died, it would simply be an extra triumph. Whatever happened to him was on Zarkon. As for her, she waited for the Champion to arrive. It would not be long.

She looked over to her creation, sitting on its throne, and smiled.

“Soon, my son. Soon you shall fulfill your destiny.” Her hand lifted towards the Robeast, and in response, its hand lifted towards her in solidarity. At the sight she began to cackle with unbridled glee. “You will destroy Zarkon. And together, we will watch him and his city _BURN_!”


	6. V

_“Shiro!”_

_Keith was in the cave, watching the sentries grab Shiro and make to carry him off. As they did, Keith pulled on one, but it was too strong._

_“Keith!” Shiro held his hand out, and Keith tried to grab it, but to no avail. “My Omega! The city! Do not forget the city!”_

_“Don’t go!” The sentries began to pull away from Keith, and he tried to run after them. The faster he went, however, the faster the sentries went, until they were a blur and Keith could barely keep up. “I can’t leave without you, alpha!”_

_His boots pounded on the cave floor; suddenly, his foot caught on a pebble, and he crashed into the ground hard, his chin radiating pain. As he looked up, he started; standing above him like a giant was his grandfather, his eyes glowing as violet as the sentries’ quintessence._

_“You shall not have him, boy.” Zarkon seemed to grow bigger with each passing tick, until he was the size of a skyscraper, then the Alcázar, then beyond even that. “The sooner you learn and accept this, the better. Resist my will no more.”_

_“NO!”_

_“This city is mine.” Flames began to lick at Keith’s feet as Zarkon continued to loom over him. “Forever shall it be mine. No matter what happens.”_

_The flames caught Keith in the thigh, and instantly he was on fire. He let out a scream, calling and begging for his grandfather to stop, to put out the heat as it cooked him from the inside out. Like an impassive statue, the Arch-Omega did not move, did not speak. He would not save his grandson._

No matter what happens…

_Keith was going to burn._

_Burn, burn, BURN-_

“ ** _AAAUUUUUGH!_** ”

He screamed as his eyes bolted open, his body flopping on the hard mattress. There was no fire, but there was dizziness as his head lolled everywhere, resulting in the bare grey ceiling above him spinning into infinity for all Keith knew. Keith’s eyes lolled into the back of his head as he panted, and a long line of drool began cascading from the side of his mouth.

“The apparent future ruler of Zamyatin, alpha and betas.” A faint, albeit sardonic, voice began to echo into his ears. “Boy am _I_ excited. Can I go home now, Allura?”

“Stop it, Pidge,” The second voice was familiar-Lance’s alpha, Keith realized as he slowly blinked, coming back to consciousness a little faster. “You could at least check his bandage. And those cuts on his hands don’t look very good.”

“I checked his head a varga ago! It was barely bleeding.” A blob waved dismissively over his head, which transformed into a small hand. “He’ll be fine if he doesn’t hit his head again. I don’t know if his hands will be too great, but-oh hey, he’s waking up.”

“Mmmngh.” Keith swallowed, his throat dry. “Where…where am I? What—”

“Back at Lance and Allura’s place.” Keith felt a hand sneak under his neck, slowly propping him upwards. Keith winced at the pain. “No sign of Shiro. Here, have a drink, you idiot.”

“…The sentries-” Keith sputtered as the water was practically poured down his throat. “Ghk—the sentries took him! Gotta…gotta save him.”

“Sentries?” Allura’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, it was. Saw their tracks all over where this guy was. See? Can never trust Omegas, no matter what Shiro says.” The one called Pidge grumbled as she-at least, Keith was sure it sounded like a she-let go of Keith’s head, to fall back down onto the mattress in a very ungentle manner. “Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile. I say we ought to give him to a mob and let them have their way with him.”

“As much as I want to agree-and as fun as that might be for you,” Keith’s heart stopped before Allura continued from the chair she sat in, “I would like to point out that the automated sentries generally do not deviate from their watches in such a manner.”

“They don’t? Aw, why do you have to ruin my fun?” 

“Indeed,” the alpha sighed. “It’s the whole reason Shiro started holding the meetings in the catacombs was because. He told us in the beginning that the grid that powers the sentries’ positronic brains weren’t mapped for anything outside of the workers’ city or the city above, and they generally start to malfunction when met with excess dust and rocks anyways. And as much as I distrust this Omega, I trust Shiro’s knowledge on the matter more.”

“…You know,” Slowly, Keith sat up, and found that Pidge was a young beta with mousy hair. A pair of broken eyeglasses rested on the bridge of her nose. “For someone whose barely a phoeb away from pushing a duo of Omegas out while her baby-daddy is in the city doing who-knows-what, you’re acting way too rational about all of this.”

“ _Someone_ has to be the rational one among us right now.” Allura was holding her massive belly as she tried to stand from her chair, and Pidge and Keith both immediately went to help-though Keith staggered a bit from dizziness on the way. “Quiznak knows Lance isn’t, and neither is the Omega here.”

“Are you saying I’m _not_ being rational?”

“Feeding Keith to the dogs won’t bring Shiro back or help our situation at all.” Allura sighed as she swayed. “Nor will it help keep my children with me. Especially if sentries _are_ actually going rogue.”

“Keep your children with you?” Keith’s eyes widened; then he winced from the pain. “Why wouldn’t you be able to…? An alpha having Omega babies would only be a good thing, right? To show the world we’re…equal…?”

He trailed off as both alpha and beta both looked at him with…bemusement? Annoyance? Pity? Consternation? Keith didn’t know. Then again, Keith was finding out that there were many things he didn’t know about how the world worked, and the list seemed to grow with every passing varga that he continued down the path he started on. No-it was the path started by Shiro. Keith was simply walking what Shiro had started to pave, if anything.

“…You really don’t know. _Wow_.” Pidge smirked. “Must be nice in that ivory tower you live in up there.”

“I don’t live in a-”

“It’s a metaphor. Just…look,” Pidge motioned to Allura. “Alphas and beta and Omegas have to be separated, right? That includes the babies. So, if an alpha or beta gives birth to an Omega? That baby gets taken topside to be raised by a more _deserving_ couple among _your_ kind.”

“What.” Keith’s blood froze at the revelation. “Th-that can’t be! They would…tear apart families…my grandfather allows even this as well!?”

“…not only that, but the same goes for alphas and betas born to Omegas.” Allura looked away at this. “They’re dumped down here when they are born, and never spoken about by their birth parents, ever again. It happens often enough, but most families down here don’t tell their children if they were born from Omegas-they’re afraid of how those children would react to know they were abandoned. Of course, Omega children born here and brought up on the surface aren’t told the truth, either…”

Tears began to form in the dark-skinned woman’s eyes, and she looked over towards the window.

“To think my children will never know who I am…that they’ll be snatched from me before I can bond with them and grow up to hate me…!”

Keith staggered back as her expression brought a flash of déjà vu to his addled mind. The phantom memory that swirled in his mind brought him, not into the hovel of a worker’s tenement, but inside the massive foyer of a great skyscraper. He was not 22 then, but 14, just leaving school, and taking a tour of the city, courtesy of the great and powerful who were the industry giants. Thus, the person with the expression of grief was not a young pregnant woman lamenting the inevitable loss of her children. No-it was a middle-aged man, eyes glistening in the light of a chandelier of 200 lights, as he spoke of how he would have to pay a ג10,000,000 fine to the dog breeders guild for registering his _Dalterion_ Pointer as a _Olkarian_ Pointer. How he was devastated that he wouldn’t be able to join his dog into the club until next year. That he even contemplated shooting his dog, and then himself, for the loss of face.

The chin, the eyes, the nose, and the skin. The similarities between Allura and the chairman of Falacorps-a man named Alfor-were suddenly too uncanny to be a coincidence. It made Keith feel sicker than he already was, and before he knew it, acid had come up to his throat. He managed to force it down, letting out only a disgusting burp that rattled his bones.

Then he swallowed his acid, and his pride, squaring his shoulders as he looked at the two women.

“This won’t go on…I can’t…” He slowly shook his head, careful to not jostle it too hard lest to another massive headache lingered on the horizon. “I have to go. I have to fix this.”

“Keith...”

“Allura.” He grabbed the alpha’s hands and shook them both while she gasped. “Thank you for tolerating me and my…my ignorance. I’ve learned so much from you, from everyone so far. Please have faith that I can save Shiro, bring peace, and bring Lance back here as well!”

“What!? You’re concussed and you possibly have infected cuts on your hands!” The tears of despair turned into tears of anger. “You shouldn’t even be moving around, you _idiot_ Omega-”

“I know I’m an idiot.” Keith nodded. “But I will make up for what’s happened. You won’t lose your kid. It’s time I stopped running away from my responsibilities and admit my culpability in this! I will face my grandfather, and free everyone down here!”

“Are you serious-!?”

“Just let him go, he’s a lost cause.” Pidge waved him off, only to have Keith shake her hand as well. She deserved it. She deserved that and so much more. “He’ll be lucky if he manages to find his own feet without tripping over them, much less survive a face-off with the quiznaking Arch-Omega.”

“I _will_ survive!” Now Keith wasn’t making much sense, but his purpose was clear-cut, and that was what mattered at the moment. “I promise! Until we meet again!”

With that, he left them both, stumbling down the stairs and towards the elevators leading to the C-Machine. His heart was set, even if his mind was not quite at full capacity. After all, it was as Shiro said-as an Omega, he had used his mind for too long, and had been blind to the truth, causing nothing but hurt to others who didn’t deserve it!

He would do it. He would use his heart to save the city, and he would use it to save Shiro, first and foremost, from whoever had taken him away.

(Though, on the other hand, perhaps it was also that he was using his heart because actually thinking of the details just hurt at that dobosh. Either was possible, Keith thought, as the elevator jolted to life, bringing him upwards to the surface once more.)

* * *

Zethrid was getting tired of waiting.

The beta wasn’t really giving her much when it came to trailing him. Indeed, he was giving her nothing at all. After the movie, he went back to sleep-so Zethrid ended up catching a nap as well. Then, he went to an automat for breakfast, followed by a candy store. Now, he was in a toy store. A _toy store_.

She yawned, stretched, and cracked her knuckles as she activated her VAIBO again. Ezor’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed expression met her with a smile.

“ ** _Good morning!_** ” A little wave from her partner. “ ** _What’s up? Bust a ring of rebels?_** ”

“No.” Zethrid grit her teeth. “I’m waiting at Hamells for my target.”

“ ** _Oooh! Toys!_** ”

“Yeah, yeah, he might be getting toys, but I’m through playing games.” Zethrid quickly pressed some buttons on her VAIBO’s interface. “Give me access to Keith’s car. I’m sending this beta back where he belongs.”

“ ** _…You know you just made a pun-_** ”

“I _know_ I did!” Zethrid half-growled, half-yelled. “Just…just get me in the car!”

Ticks later, the doors of the urbanetic coupe slid open, and immediately the general hopped into the back, nearly sitting on the box of jellybeans the uppity alpha beta had bought with money that wasn’t his. She let the doors slide close, and with that, she waited for her target to emerge from the store. She rubbed her face in irritation-her spies in the Underground hadn’t found much in regards to Keith’s activities among the alphas and betas, though he’d been spotted in the C-Machine worker’s tenement through the previous evening, wearing the cap of beta 11811-C-5. Outside of those sightings, however, it seemed that the Arch-Omega’s grandson had disappeared-or at the very least, had not been sighted again-as of that morning.

It was as she mused about what exactly Keith’s game was at that point that she spotted the beta bounding out of the store, two giant stuffed yalmors in tow, one tucked beneath each arm. One was a cotton candy pink, while the other was a frosted sky blue; both had glitter yarn sewn into their snouts. He looked like he was talking on Keith’s VAIBO watch.

Immediately, Zethrid straightened up, carefully keeping silent as the front doors of the car slid open.

* * *

Lance-or, β 11811-C-5-was having the time of his life.

He’d never been up in the city proper before, and he decided that, no matter what, he’d make the best of it. Granted, he wished that he could have gone and brought Allura with him, maybe take her on a nice pre-baby vacation with all the GAC Keith had given him, but-the twins. Allura was having a difficult time as it was, and he could make her walk through the C-Machine’s halls without putting her at risk. Even leaving their apartment boded ill for her health, and she’d only managed to get released from her job to rest for the birth at C-5 a mere movement ago, when the higher-ups realized they couldn’t put the situation on the backburner much longer.

Compared to the dozens of others who’d actually given birth on the floor during his time working at the C-Machine-Lance had even helped his sister Lisa deliver near Nadia’s workstation by the box labeling station several decaphoebs back, when the foreman refused to even let her do it in the closet, that jerky quiznak!-Lance knew Allura was being treated like a princess. Then again, the Omegas in charge of the C-Machine also knew she was carrying Omega twins, and heaven forbid something happened to the boy and girl they planned on stealing from him and Allura. Not that Allura would allow it. Lance wouldn’t allow it, either. Even if it meant he had to stay in that little room he and Allura called home and never leave to make sure they kept _their_ children.

In the meantime, though, he decided to enjoy his freedom passing as an Omega. He’d slept, first and foremost. Then, when he woke up to a sky full of stars both real and artificial, he’d gone to see a movie-the first ever that he saw, even though he created film stock!-and then he went to eat real food for the very first time in a diner. Then he went to a candy store to pick up a box of jellybeans for Allura-she’d gotten some crazy cravings and had even resorted to eating dirt on the ground outside of their home! Unacceptable!-before, finally, coming to a toy store.

He got a great idea upon seeing it. Growing up in such a large family, even by alpha and beta standards, Lance rarely got to hold a toy, much less own one. They were so rare even among normal-sized families to be had that it was considered a status symbol-to have a real toy! How amazing you must be to have one!-and Lance had seen and been through his share of fights to get and keep one.

As for his kids? His kids deserved a toy, both of them, when they were born. And what better toy than something from the city itself, from a toy store bigger than the entirety of the C-Machine tenement put together! Granted, it wasn’t _his_ GAC, but Keith had said to experience life as an Omega, and that included spending money, so that was what he was going to do.

As it was, he was heading to his-well, Keith’s-car, talking to Hunk, the guy who lived at Keith’s place or something like that.

“Yeah, it’s cute!” Lance was just chatting away with his new Omega maybe-friend as he walked over to his car, both toys crooked under his arms giant-sized which would no doubt last their whole childhood. “Did you have one as a kid? No? That’s terrible, they’re cute! I’m sure Allura will be happy to see what I’ve bought! VAIBO, open the car doors, please.”

The car doors slid open, and Lance began to close in on the back seat. He wasn’t even paying attention to his surroundings-what need did he have to do that? No one harassed him, or asked him questions, or even seemed suspicious of him. Everyone had been so nice. It was nice being an Omega, even if he was only pretending to be an Omega for a short amount of time.

“So maybe I don’t need to come see you? I just need to figure out how to get back into the C-Machine with all th-”

Hence why the two beefy hands yanking him by the wrist was not at all expected, and Lance let out a screech of shock as he was pulled into the car without warning. No amount of struggling on Lance’s part would allow him to break free from the grip of his attacker; though he’d managed to get in the first full and real meal in his life that morning, he’d suffered from years of improper nutrition; he was no match for any well-fed Omega on average, much less an Omega with a very imposing physique and seeming super-strength.

“AAAAH!!”

“ ** _Lance? Lance!?_** ” Hunk’s voice became more panicked as Lance’s failing attempt to flee continued. “ ** _Lance, what’s going on!? Come on, beta, please answer me!_** ”

“LET GO! LET GO OF-”

“ ** _ENOUGH!_** ”

“ ** _Oh no—Lance, I’ve got to hang up–_** ”

He and the toys were finally dragged into the car, and the door closed behind Lance-without any prompt from him-and he found himself staring at two very angry eyes. The person who owned said eyes was an Omega specimen of pure muscle, with a square jaw and a face that was partly scarred from what must have been a very painful meeting with fire. A face that could kill alongside their hands, if the hardened expression was anything to go by. Those hands, meanwhile, were grabbing his wrists so tightly that he thought his arms might break from the strain.

In other words, it was a Ministry of Order official who had a hold of him now, and Lance was so glad that he’d gone to the bathroom before he went shopping.

“Stop. Struggling.” Slowly, Lance complied; not that he could have struggled much longer with the strength being brought to bear against him. His heart was thrashing so hard he feared it might pop out of his chest. “Now, beta 11811-C-5. Yes, I know who you are. Don’t try to deny it.”

“No…no please don’t hurt me…” Lance began to shake. “I didn’t do anything wrong-”

“Oh, _didn’t_ you? You are a beta presenting himself fraudulently as an Omega.” The grip tightened, and Lance yelped. “A beta wearing stolen clothing and activating a VAIBO unauthorized for your use, while spending purloined GAC on goods you clearly intend to smuggle illegally into the Underground.”

The Omega then cast an eye on the toys and jellybeans, and Lance’s blood went cold as a smirk spread on the Omega’s face.

“I wonder who you got these for…your children, perhaps? A partner? How unfortunate that they have you thieving for them! Maybe I ought to drag them all down to the Ministry with you-”

“ _NO!_ ”

Lance thrashed, summoning what energy he had left to fight, to fly, to make any sort of difference against his inevitable fate. No-not _his_ inevitable fate. He was fine with being arrested. But Allura…she and the twins would never survive imprisonment. Lance would never forgive himself if they were hurt over his folly. His stupidity. Why had he thought he wouldn’t get in trouble? Why had he trusted an Omega like Keith to not get him in trouble? How did he know Keith wasn’t in league with the Ministry of Order?

After a dobosh, he finally stopped struggling, tears in his eyes. He couldn’t break free of this woman, who was much stronger and better-fed than he. It was like he was an ant trying to outrun a bull’s hooves–he was to be crushed underfoot, no matter what he tried.

“Are you quite done?” Lance could only slowly, demurely, nod. “Good. Now. Do you know where the Omega who gave you these things has gone?”

They didn’t know. Then did it mean the man he switched with was not with the Ministry of Order? Then, perhaps he’d been honest about his intentions after all–not that it mattered much, now that he was caught. Maybe they’d be imprisoned together–who knew what awaited Lance now?

As for the official’s question, he could only meekly shake his head.

“Look at me, you no-account _filth_.” One of the hands left his wrist, then yanked his chin up so hard that for a tick Lance thought his neck might have been broken. “ _Where_ is Keith?”

“I…” Lance couldn’t hold it back. The tears finally fell, and centraphoebs of conditioning for him and his ancestors kicked in. “I don’t know! I really don’t know anything else! Please, Omega, Keith told me he wanted me to enjoy the city–nothing more! Please don’t be angry with me!”

The official bore holes into Lances face at the response, their upper lip curled in a snarl. The official could have killed him, then and there. He could be shot, or choked, or his neck truly snapped, and no one would ever know. He would never see Allura again. The children…his twins…he would never be able to protect them from being taken away, much less see them when they were born. It would be as if he’d never existed, and he doubted that even Keith would remember him.

“…Hmph.” Suddenly, the official let him go, and he collapsed, suddenly feeling exhausted. “What a waste of time. Ezor, send an all-Levels bulletin to find and apprehend a man wearing the uniform of 11811-C-5 with Keith’s description-but don’t give out names!”

“ ** _Got it!_** ”

“As for _you_ , the _real_ 11811-C-5!” Still holding onto Lance’s wrist, the official used their other hand to snap the VAIBO watch off his arm. “Your case will be sent to the Ministry of Order’s Department of Beta Deviancy and Processing to decide your ultimate punishment. In the meantime, you will return to where you belong and never leave again. You will spend the rest of your life in the Underground, and you will forget you ever came up here.”

With a flourish, the official began typing onto a hologram that popped up onto her own hologram. After a dobosh, she turned back to him, eyes flashing.

“Aah—it actually appears your fate’s been decided already!” Lance’s lip started quivering violently as they pointed at him with a clawed finger. “With the authority vested in me by the Arch-Omega-you are henceforth transferred from the C-Machine to the R-Machine, and your living quarters shall be transferred permanently to Underground-R! This transfer shall be effective immediately!”

The R-Machine. The machine that processed rubber and all its associated products. All associated procedures, such as harvesting trees, processing the slag, sulfur vulcanization. It was said many who went to the R-Machine died young due to the toxic fumes that permeated the air-even in comparison to the discharge of many of the other machines in the Underground. It was more than a guaranteed death sentence; it also meant he would be separated from Allura. He might not ever see her again.

“Your foreman shall have even a nice new personalized uniform waiting for you when you arrive, isn’t that lovely?” The official looked all too smug, and Lance wished they would just strike her dead, then and there, as he wept. “I’ll even be generous and drive you there _personally_ so you won’t wander off and get lost! VAIBO, bring us to the R-Machine.”

The car jolted to life, throwing Lance into the side door. He only vaguely paid attention to what his co-rider was dong-checking Keith’s VAIBO for its function history, talking to their cohort on their VAIBO, looking out the car towards the buildings that whizzed by. What the official was doing didn’t matter.

None of it mattered.

Lance’s life was over, and all he could do was cry. 

* * *

Something bad had happened.

Hunk’s arms were caked with sweat as he paced back and forth in the apartment living room. He ran his hands through his hair, when he wasn’t grabbing bottles from the cellarette and pouring drinks for himself to chug down. He wished he wasn’t so nervous, but he couldn’t help it. The moment Lance 11811-C-5 had started screaming, he’d gotten the feeling in his stomach that always presaged something terrible. He hastily cut off the feed on Keith’s desk VAIBO, but he couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t heard of figured out–especially if it was the Ministry of Order who had caused the beta’s distress over the VAIBO. Not only that, but because Keith had dismissed all of his servants, Hunk had been alone for over a quintant.

Why hadn’t he insisted on Lance coming to Keith’s place immediately the first time the beta had contacted him? Why did he keep making so many mistakes? Was he really an Omega befitting the Garrett name, or was he just an incompetent fool? Worse–what if he was a fake Omega? What if his family had gotten his dynamic wrong when he was born? What if–?

Hunk had been deep in his pondering–and his fourth drink of Bärenfang–when the front door opened. 

“Master Keith-!?”

He staggered in, eyes wide and wild, his hands peppered with black stains and covered in cuts. His face was pale, and he looked ready to fall right on his face. There was a bandage around his forehead, and oh god, the back of the bandage looked to have blood soaking it. Yet his expression was so full of determination, his body language so ready to pounce, to surge forward and fight, that Hunk was a bit worried that that was exactly what Keith planned to do with him. As if any tick Keith would up and punch him in the face, and Hunk certainly wasn’t going to try and fight the grandson of the Arch-Omega after he’d been so generous previously.

“…Master Keith?” He found himself backing away from his boss, hands tentatively hovering. “What the quiznak happened? Are you ok?”

“Hunk.” Keith ripped the workers cap off his head, practically slamming it down onto his desk. He then flopped into the nearest chair, hands waving animatedly. “I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the truth! I’ve seen what they do to alphas and betas down in the machines. What they make them do in the factories. What they do to the women who give birth to Omegas!”

“What-”

“I’ve seen what my grandfather’s condoned…and…Shiro…the Ministry of Order took Shiro! I think it’s because they were looking for me!” Keith’s hands ran tightly through his disheveled hair. As he did, Hunk could see the untreated scrapes and cuts on the other Omega’s knuckles; they looked worrying, to say the least. “I have to get him back, Hunk! I have to save him and all the others!”

“Uh, no offense, Master Keith, but that’s a bad idea!” Hunk swallowed, his hands shaking. “Lance…I’m almost certain the Ministry of Order’s gotten to him! I was talking to him and all of a sudden-!”

“Lance, too!?” Keith’s eyes widened even more, before they narrowed. “Then, my path is more set than ever. As the grandson of the Arch-Omega, as a member of the Melanochaitra bloodline, I might have a chance to actually do something–I have to go and save them before it’s too late!”

“ _What!?_ No!”

Hunk’s eyes widened at this declaration. Had Keith lost his mind? Was he sick? It was clear that the Omega had seen things that Hunk could only imagine in his own limited experience. Maybe Keith needed a drink–Hunk could get him a tumbler if he needed one.

“It’s all right. Just stay here, Hunk.” Keith was suddenly up on his feet again, and as he walked off he nearly fell face-first onto the carpet. Whatever unwieldy logic was guiding him right now, it was clearly not being helped by his overall condition. “You’ll be safe while I go to the Ministry of Order. Once they see me wearing these clothes, they’ll realize everything was a misunderstanding on their part because of me! And maybe…maybe they…and my grandfather will stop and listen to what I have to say…”

“Master Keith! I don’t think that’s how that works…” And then suddenly Keith was giving him a tight, chest-deflating hug. “Keith, _wait_! Seriously, this is a bad idea, you’re clearly injured–”

“Don’t worry, Hunk!” Too late. Keith turned back as he opened the apartment’s front door, giving Hunk a hopeful smile. “I’ll be back before you know it. I promise!”

Hunk brought a hand up, but the door closed, and he was alone with his thoughts and his drink. With a sniffle he rubbed his eyes, slumping down at the desk. This was hopeless. He was hopeless. Keith had seemed so resolved to his task, so unswerving, that in the end Hunk couldn’t bring himself to stop him from leaving. He was, after all, a failure of an Omega, prone to mistakes unbecoming of the family he was born into. And Keith? Keith was a prince among men, the member of the greatest family, and the next ruler. Well, he would be if he survived whatever the quiznak he was planning to do at the Ministry of Order.

Hunk downed the last of his glass and was in the middle of pouring a fifth drink for his troubles, when there was a knock on the door. He’d barely gotten a step in when, suddenly, it burst open without warning-causing him to drop his glass on the carpet-and a figure strolled in. A figure who was most definitely not Keith. In fact, he was very certain he knew who the massive, muscular woman strolling into the apartment, chest puffed out and head high. At the very least, he had a feeling he knew where she came from, if the insignia on her dark 3-piece suit-an Omega sigil, with a rapier stabbed vertically through it-was any indication.

“ _Hey!_ What-what are you doing?!” Hunk’s gaze darted from the very imposing woman who now smiled at him, and the now-ruined carpet stained with vodka. He clenched his fists. This wasn’t happening. This _could not_ be happening. “H-how dare you just…just trespass without getting permission to enter this place! Wh-what is the meaning of this! Who are you!?”

The woman didn’t respond. Instead, she brought her foot up and, with a flourish, closed the door behind her with a kick. Then, slowly, as she took off her gloves finger by finger, she looked around, the eye on the burnt and scarred side of her face taking in the scene.

“Nice apartment you have.” She spoke as if randomly breaking into people’s homes was normal for her-though maybe it was for Ministry of Order personnel. “When did you get it, Omega?”

“I–” Should he lie? No. That was a bad idea. “No, this isn’t my place. I-I’m just looking after the place for Master Keith!”

“Is that so?” The woman pursed her lips as she brought her hands together. “Master Keith, huh. That would be the grandson and heir to the Arch-Omega, isn’t it? Where, I wonder, could he be?”

“I, uh…I wouldn’t know.” It wasn’t technically a lie. He knew where Keith was going, and he had left the apartment only a few doboshes, but he didn’t know where he was at that precise tick. “No disrespect intended, b-but why does it matter, anyways?”

“Oh, it matters…Mr. Garrett.”

With that, the Omega went into her inner jacket pocket; casually, almost nonchalantly, she pulled out a VAIBO watch. Hunk’s eyes broadened at the sight; the smile on the woman’s face spread at his reaction.

“Hmm? You seem to recognize this! You should; this is the VAIBO watch your beta friend was using to contact you!” She dangled the watch in front of Hunk, teeth showing in her grin. “I assume you know that such an act is _illegal_ , Mr. Garrett, considering you worked for the Arch-Omega as a computing secretary despite your chronic incompetence, isn’t _that_ correct!?”

“I…” Hunk began to hyperventilate. He had no way to rebut this. No way to escape. “P-please, please don’t do this!”

“Do _what_? My job?” The official leaned in, her face darkening with unbridled glee. “You are in violation of your punishment, as ordered by the Arch-Omega, of undergoing Chemical Procedure–α at the Department of Reassignment, so that you might be where you truly belong. That’s on top of aiding and abetting a beta in fraudulently posing as an Omega–that alone should get you a fate worse than death!”

As Hunk’s face darted to and fro in unmitigated panic, he spotted the cap on the desk in the corner of his eye. It was there, right in the open, covered in dust and grime. Another piece of evidence to tie him to Keith, to tie Lance to Keith, perhaps to even give the Ministry of Order a means of stopping Keith–or worse, hurting him badly for his possibly misplaced kindness. In the meantime, though, Hunk knew that if he didn’t get out of this situation–if he didn’t save himself–no one would help him out. Not even Keith.

He had to look out for himself, now. He began to back away from the woman, and closer to the desk.

“But I’m willing to be lenient...” The woman was backing him into a corner. “I might just let you walk into your castration on your own accord, and I will even let you choose what assignment you want once you become an alpha. Otherwise, I’m going to haul you to the Ministry of Order, then I’m going to strap you down on the surgical table myself, and I will make sure to watch you squirm and scream as it happens–if you do not tell me _everything_ you know about where Keith is and what exactly he’s up to!”

Hunk took a deep breath. He knew it looked like he was going to talk. He could see the flash of triumph, of satisfaction, on the official’s face. Of course she would think that–she was a specimen of the Ministry of Order, a character who prided on their power and cruelty over those who were caught in their sights. Her physique alone cut a suitably menacing figure, reminiscent of the late Commander Sendak himself, who always prided his people on being the most physically imposing persons in any room they entered. He thus knew what he was about to do was a risk; in general, people who tried to go up against a Ministry official fought a losing battle.

But Hunk was no shrinking violet himself when it came to physicality. He was a member of the Club of the Olympians–a complex where many children of prominent Omegas were allowed unfettered access to massive gymnasiums of serious sports and more leisurely pursuits. Hunk himself used these facilities over the decaphoebs, and such was his enthusiasm that, before he became Zarkon’s assistant, he had competed in multiple tournaments and games–he’d even won golden laurels during the last Olympiad. Weightlifting, Highland hammer throw, wrestling–his strength was not in question.

Now he put all of that into a grapple hold on her arm, and a swift kick aimed at the woman’s kneecap as she went to grab him. The effect was immediate, as the woman collapsed to the ground with a surprised, enraged howl. Hunk didn’t waste time–he snagged the cap off of the desk and broke into a run. He felt the official’s hand graze his ankle, but Hunk was much faster and more sure, and his leg deftly avoided being grabbed. He threw the door open and bolted straight for the perpetual elevator. He dove in, his heart pounding so wildly he was certain it would burst.

He couldn’t believe it. He’d not only broken the law with Keith’s blessing, he’d also just assaulted an official from the Ministry of Order. His hands began to violently shake, and his hands went to his head, eyes wide as his breath came fast and shallow. He was really in for it now.

_It's all right. Just stay here, Hunk._

“I’m sorry,” Hunk whimpered as the elevator came to the main floor of the building, and he stepped off. He ignored the people giving him confused looks as he stumbled out into the street, repeating the same thing over and over, as if Keith could hear him, as if Keith could possibly forgive him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry…”

It was then his VAIBO began to blare with an ugly, deep noise, and it began to flash red. The words **_WARNING_ ** and **_FUGITIVE_ ** flashed in holographic form over his wrist. That was it. There was no turning back. The whole city was about to know what he did, they were tracking him through the VAIBO, and he would have nowhere to hide and no one to turn to who wouldn’t immediately give him over to the Ministry. His own family wouldn’t hesitate to report him, now. He was doomed. Worse–he was truly alone.

He had wanted to help Keith. Truly, he did. He’d promised. But look where it had gotten him.

Yanking the watch off and throwing it into the first trash can he came upon, he started to run, tears bursting from his eyes. It was all he could do to get away from what he’d gotten himself into, and to stave off the inevitable fate that now hung in front of him like a hangman’s noose. Whatever might happen to Keith was no longer his primary concern. Hunk was going to save himself first.


	7. VI

Within the room beyond the steel door, Honerva watched as the Champion slept in the cage prepared for him, stroking Kova’s back as she did so.

She couldn’t deny that the man was quite handsome, as she had stripped him nude for the upcoming procedure. She could see why Omegas would salivate over him. His physique alone was that of a Hercules, beautiful and strong, and practically bursting with a natural, inviting charisma few could quite capture or explain. The face was kind, if weary looking from the life he lived. She could easily imagine the hardships, if his files and own words were anything to go by.

Of course, she could also see the multiple scars on his body, and especially at his ankles, the crook of his elbows, his neck, and of course his nose. She could see the surgical line that lay just above where the arm met prosthetic. Handsome though the Champion was, it was clear that the classical musculature that accompanied him was less a result of long training, and more a result of forced quintessence experiments by the Ministry of Science-and perhaps not a little touch of that illegal steroid Flux. She knew of what Flux did especially, given as she had been the one to synthesize it in different versions for the Ministry’s use, along with creating her own personal stock of it for further research. It enhanced the body to almost superhuman heights, growing the muscles at an accelerated rate, resulting in an almost unnatural constitution that was impossible to achieve normally.

Sendak was known to use the street version, the effects of which always faded within quintants. Shiro, however, was clearly given the Ministry’s most advanced and potent version, which was as permanent as any alteration could be. Even decaphoebs after his last official injection, the Champion was still bulky, still massive and muscular. Still capable of a lethality few others could match.

If Honerva could have felt sympathy for him, she would have. But her well of empathy had dried up long ago, when she lost the thing that mattered most to her. What was this man to her, then? Little more than a part of her plan, now. Still, she would be decent. He would wake up soon; she would tell him of his purpose. It was the least she could do for him, and far more warning than the Ministry of Order ever would have given.

Several doboshes later, he did indeed begin to stir, and Honerva let Kova down, psychically willing him out of the room. She watched as he looked around, first confused, then shocked, then scared. Instantly he was up on his feet, and he ran up to the particle barrier that Honerva had constructed to hold him. For her part, she simply watched as he panicked, pounding the particle barrier, which naturally gave him no give despite his strength.

“What…where am I!?” Finally, he fixed his eyes on her, and they narrowed with indignation and confusion. “Who are you, and what have you done with Keith!?”

Keith. Of course–he had become enamored with the Omega. Honerva clicked her tongue at this as she casually walked over to her console.

“The little princeling is not dead, if that is what you are asking.” She began to press buttons, glancing up at the Champion. “So far as I know. Not that you need concern yourself with that, anymore.”

“And why is that?” He looked down at himself at this, and he began to blush red, his eyes tinged with fear. “…What have you done to my clothes!?”

“I’m washing them. They were rather acrid,” she shrugged, quietly observing the levels of electricity in her house. Ten doboshes until the optimal output would be achieved for transference. “It’s important you do without them for now anyways. Though...whatever your pretty little alpha mind might be thinking as to what I want, _that_ is not your purpose here.”

“Then what _is_ my purpose?!”

Honerva could feel a wry smile play on her lips. Quietly, she stepped to the side, revealing her creation, who sat placidly on its seat, head cocked towards the Champion with its hollow, unblinking eyes. She turned to see the alpha’s reaction to the wondrous, terrifying sight.

“A…a robot…!”

“ _No_ , not a robot–you insult him by calling him such a dirty, primitive word. No, mine is superior, and beyond superior,” she purred in response. “A living machine being, with the quintessence to more than match any flesh creature, and thus, it is alive in the way you and I are now.”

The man’s eyes widened, its mouth opening, as her work slowly stood up, hands crossing over his chest, and chin almost defiantly lifting upwards. So much like Lotor would do when he lived, she recalled, whenever he readied himself for school, or when he went on a night on the town, or when he finally made to stand up to his father and his ridiculously unthinking demands and standards.

Unsurprisingly, her prisoner was aghast at the sight, and why wouldn’t he be? Of course he would react negatively–it was natural that he wouldn’t understand her, or her son, or her creation. Still, as the alpha let out a cry at the sight of it, the Robeast turned away, chin still up, now with a touch of indignation at the response it was receiving.

“Come now, Champion, don’t be so shocked! There is no need for it.” She let out a cackle. “After all, isn’t my Robeast the most exquisite being you have ever beheld?”

The alpha didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he turned away and shook his head, eyes still wide with stunned indignation at what he had just beheld.

“Well, it is, and you ought to consider yourself lucky you should see my creation’s true face. Honored. Flattered!” With a gentle wave, Honerva bade the Robeast to sit, before pressing a button. “After all, you will never see it again, for it is _your_ face that the Robeast shall wear-starting tonight!”

Behind her, between her console and the seat where her creation sat, a hole opened up, and, slowly, up popped a dais, shaped in five points and glowing with multiple violet lines, bright as lights. On top of the dais was a dark purple box, with the head of it carved out to allow for a massive, diode-laden helmet to attach to the top end. It was shaped like a coffin, and within-as the door to the box slowly opened–were restraints of multiple sizes, all ensuring that whoever was placed there wouldn’t escape. With another press of a button, the restraints changed shape, until they perfectly accommodated her test subject, so he wouldn’t move once placed within.

Behind her, she heard the Champion scream, followed by a loud pound against the particle barrier.

“ ** _NO! NEVER!_** ” His eyes were blank dots, and sweat had begun pouring over his face, which had turned white as a sheet. “ ** _I WON'T BE USED! N_** ** _OT AGAIN! NEVER AGAIN!!_** ”

“Tsk.” Honerva watched as the prosthetic on the Champion’s arm began to glow a bright purple. “How troublesome. You only make it more difficult for yourself...”

The prosthetic was quite advanced, Honerva had to admit. Impressively so, given that she had not been the one to give it to the Champion. But the basic understanding of how the arm functioned–how it could even exist–were all laid down by her own principles and research. No amount of bells and whistles or streamlining added over the decaphoebs by other, lesser scientists could take away from the core concept of her designs–or how to override them and render them inoperable. Indeed, as the Champion began to prepare to use the power in his arm to smash through the particle barrier–a plan that would have worked in other circumstances, an idea that had worked against the sentries, and a strategy that _might_ have worked here if she were not in the room–Honerva brought out a small VAIBO remote from the folds of her clothing and, with a flourish as her eyes met the alpha’s, pressed several buttons.

The terrified screaming instantly became mired with agony as a massive spark of purple quintessence surged through the arm, causing it to spasm violently before it could hit the barrier. With a roar of pain, the Champion fell to his knees as the light within the arm flashed one last time, sputtered, and then died at last, becoming little more than dead weight as it hung uselessly from his shoulder.

“There! _Much_ better.” Honerva rubbed her hands with not a little bit of excitement. “It won’t be long now before the transference apparati will be ready for you. However, in order for my operation to work I shall need a fully sedated Champion. To that end…”

She pressed one last button, and the tell-tale hiss of gas began to fill the room. The Champion’s actions despite the obvious pain became more frantic, and he took to using his dead arm as a battering ram, to no avail.

“I shall return in one varga to start the procedure.” With a flourish of her hair, she proceeded to walk off, taking care to close the door behind her as she did so. “It’s time you save your strength and take a little nap, dear Champion. Have pleasant dreams, my fellow alpha…!”

* * *

Out of all the buildings in Zamyatin, it was said that the Ministry of Order building was among the oldest of them all, if not _the_ oldest. They said it was once where the Arch-Omegas lived and worked while the Alcázar was being built. Of every edifice outside of those that held the factories and machines, the Ministry of Order’s was also the most nondescript, yet at the same time the most imposing and severe with its many stories soaring to a brutal height. The outside was a dull monotone beige, the likes of which was unadorned by any lights or logos, save for that of the omega sign with the rapier stabbed right through it at the top.

It was a menacing sight to behold when one was in a normal state of mind. In Keith’s state of mind, it might as well have been a massive monster, its shoulders hunched and its shadow spreading through the streets of Level 3. It seemed to threaten to take over the entirety of the city, only to be stopped by the light and power of the Alcázar.

Lance was there, Keith was certain of it. Lance–and above all Shiro. He straightened himself up to be as tall as possible, calling on every ounce of adrenaline he could muster, and began to walk into the building, his eyes staring through the windows as he went through the turning door.

_I can do this. I have to. Shiro…Shiro is important._

He closed his eyes as he walked into the lobby, the dark grey walls surrounding him and threatening to close in on him that very tick. People began to stop and stare at him as he began to march towards the first hallway he could see, where the elevators were nestled. Lifts of pure steel and iron that led both far above to the top Levels–and to places down beneath the city, not quite to the Underground, but still no less dangerous than any machine.

He would go down fighting. He would do whatever it took.

_I love him._

“Hey!” Someone grabbed him by the wrist. “What are you doing here!? You’re trespassing on government property, you peon!”

Keith didn’t respond verbally. Instead, his other, free hand did what it had to do–ball into a fist and swing at the person trying to restrain him as he turned to face them.

“ _HEY_! What the-!?” The officer staggered back, blood seeping from his mouth, as he stared at Keith. “Why you…!”

He took out his gun, aiming at Keith. Before he could shoot, Keith burst into a run, heading towards the elevators. As he did, however, another officer appeared, eyes widened as they took out their weapon and aimed it at him.

“What are you doing!? _You’re_ not allowed here!”

“He assaulted me!” From behind him, the first officer started shouting. “He _punched_ me! Arrest him!”

“I’m the grandson of the Arch-Omega!” It was getting warmer by the tick as Keith managed to jump aside as the newcomer tried to grab him. “I demand the release of prisoners you’ve taken, or else!”

“Is this idiot high!?” Quickly, the second officer began to motion to a group of moving shadows behind him while she also activated her VAIBO. “Activate a Code Red! We have an intoxicated male non-Omega at headquarters, making terrorist threats towards the Ministry!”

“What!? I’m not…!”

Keith growled at this, and he could feel the sweat start to pool once more on his forehead. Five more officers began to congregate and close in, opting to take out stun sticks as opposed to guns, but he still had an opening to his side, and he took it. His boots squeaked against the marble tile as he moved away from the elevators–he couldn’t use them now, not on this floor–and he proceeded to bolt for the nearest set of stairs. They didn’t go down, however. They only went up, and so up Keith went, the shouts of the footmen chasing him starting to fade.

As the ticks and dobashes went by, however, Keith could feel his legs start to get heavy. He had been certain he had much more strength than this–he’d been a runner for many years in school, and still did so on occasion. Why was he getting tired? Did someone hit him with something? No, no, he had not been shot at, he was still all right. As long as that was the case, he had to keep going.

No sooner had he managed to drag himself to the third floor when the door suddenly lit up with a particle barrier, the purple light harshly drilling into Keith’s eyes as he staggered back. He’d only taken four steps before he felt another barrier against his back, and he let out a shout of horror as he turned to see a whole cadre of officers barreling up the stairs.

“NO!” Two by two they hopped upwards step-by-step, stun sticks out, coming closer and closer to Keith. “ _NO_! LET SHIRO GO! DON’T _DO_ THIS!!”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Keith was supposed to get in, free Lance, and then carry Shiro out so he could return to the workers. So that peace could be spread, and…and he _had_ been thinking clearly, he _had_ to have been. He knew what he needed to do, but the fantasy of his addled thoughts–and the hope that had accompanied it as he had left Hunk at his apartment–was clashing violently with the reality. His heart, and his head, pounded violently in sync, and he felt more and more faint, more and more of his strength waning, with every passing dobash.

Had he really been fooling himself this entire time? Could he really not save Shiro or Lance, even now? An officer grabbed him by the hand. He pulled away towards the rail that bordered the wall, shaking his head.

“Don’t touch me…”

That was when he saw it.

At the bottom of the stairway directly beneath him was his grandfather, staring back at him, his eyes flashing bright purple with quintessence.

“ _What were you expecting, my little troublemaking Omega grandchild?_ ” His voice boomed through the increasing din of the stairway, eclipsing every other voice. “ _Did you think you could stop the inevitable?_ ”

“Grandfather–?”

“ _Did I not tell you already? Zamyatin is mine, as are you, to do as I please._ ” The Arch-Omega–that strong, immeasurable pragaon of unlimited dynamic power–spread his arms out wide, as if to envelop everyone all the better. “ _As is he_.”

From the shadows of the stairs, a figure strolled into the light, allowing Zarkon to turn and gently wrap his arms around his torso. Keith let out a cry of horror as the one in Zarkon’s arms turned his head upwards to Keith, giving him a toothy smirk as his eyes, too, began to glow a bright purple. Then, the man gently leaned into Keith’s grandfather–and, with a stroke of the cheek–kissed him.

Keith’s heart stopped at the sight, and he threw his arm out, screaming.

“Shiro?! What are you doing!?” The kissing didn’t stop, and indeed, Zarkon brought a hand up and grabbed the alpha by his unpigmented bangs, slowly forcing him downward. Shiro began kissing the Arch-Omega’s neck, then his chest, and then down further still. “No, don’t!”

 _“My newest alpha._ Zarkon crooned, his voice becoming distorted as he laughed, then groaned. _“My dirty little slave, my obedient little hellion. Forget Keith–you’ll do all I ask of you, won’t you? No matter what…”_

“Shiro! No!” Keith cried. “That’s—this is not you! Please…”

 _“What a nuisance you’re becoming…you never learned when to quit, did you? Ungrateful brat.”_ He could see the flames in his grandfather’s eyes as he turned. His voice became a deep electronic growl as the heat around him suddenly spiked. _“If you persist…whatever happens next will be on your head…all on you…all shall burn…all shall die…all your fault…!”_

“Stop! _STOP_!!”

He tried to throw his hand out again, but hands began grabbing him. Figures began to close in as the particle barrier in front of him, arms reaching out towards him. From behind, more hands curled around his shoulders, his hips, his neck.

“Stop resisting!”

“Where did he come from!?”

“No chip–call in General Zethrid–”

Their murmurs and shouts soon became screams that caused Keith’s ears to blow, and though he struggled, it seemed like the more he fought the more violent the response became. Soon the screams were punctured with even more heat, starting from his head, his neck, his whole body. Soon, the flames began to spread, and they were tumbling downwards towards his grandfather and Shiro.

 _“Burn…burn…”_ His grandfather merely taunted, throwing his head back with an ecstatic scream. _“Burn with them all! BURN AND DESPAIR!!”_

The fire was hot and all-consuming; his heart pounded in its vain effort to keep him going, to keep him trying for Shiro. Hands upon hands reached for him, for aid, for spite, for whatever motive they might have, but Keith could not help them after all. Tears began to fill his eyes as he started to scream for Shiro, for the alpha he loved more dearly than he could have ever imagined in such a short time, to be saved. To come to him, as an alpha would come to his true Omega.

“ _SHIRO!!_ **_SHIROOOO_** _!!_ ”

But the alpha did not come, and Keith couldn’t reach him. Instead, it was Keith who was captured, engulfed by the flames and drowning in the sea of people who converged on him. He gasped for air as the fire spread from his neck to his arms, then his legs, and finally his chest. At long last the fire consumed him, unconsciousness blissfully overtaking him at the same time.

* * *

Honerva returned to her lab, and just as she had promised, the Champion was out. He was slumped against the particle barrier, eyes closed, and as soon as Honerva deactivated the nanoscale barricade, the fellow alpha’s body flopped to the floor, seemingly lifeless. Though the transference wouldn’t take nearly so long, with the amount of gas she had used on him he would be out for up to a phoeb. She could do other experiments, ones of lesser priority that she’d been toying with, on him in the meantime.

First things first. With minimal effort, she picked the man up and hoisted him over her shoulder, carrying him over to the transference machine. He fit into the box perfectly, and as she looked at his face, she carefully placed electric nodes onto his temples, his brow, the back of his neck where his skull and spine met. Once those were in place, she brought the diode helmet down; more nodes fastened themselves into the Champion’s head once the helmet was surmounted properly. The snugger straps used to scan his physical attributes and his bodily functions went down first; the larger straps that kept him firmly in place came next. Finally, she closed the top of the coffin entirely, until only the fellow alpha’s head was visible in any capacity.

She checked every wire that was connected to Shiro as they began to glow violet; all of them led to nodes and diodes that connected to the Robeast’s throne, to its hands, its legs, its head. Its chest, where its heart was going to be. The heart–the one organ that truly separated the man from the machine, Honerva mused as she found herself satisfied that everything was in place. Though her creature had an artificial heart, it lacked the spark, as it were, which seemed to come with the quintessence of a real heart, as if a real heart was the center of simply _being_ , even compared to the brain. 

The reason why human hearts had such a quality had always eluded her, and at the moment, it didn’t matter. She gave her Robeast one last smile as she turned to the transference console, which also began to glow a great and bright purple.

“Soon, my son. Soon you shall look like a Champion. Are you ready?”

She brought up the hologram that would track the transference as it happened; she pulled a lever to bring up the chart of the body of the Robeast as it accepted the information and quintessence from the Champion. At last, she came to the button that would begin the procedure. Only here, only now, did she hesitate.

Once it began, it could not be stopped. It would be absolute, it would be complete. Of course she knew that, if everything went as planned, she would eventually transfer Lotor over the Champion’s interface. However, what she had not told Zarkon was that she might not even succeed in imprinting the Champion onto her Robeast. Of everything she had worked on, the only thing that she had not tested thoroughly was the transference process. It was more than possible that something might go wrong–an energy overload, a failure of memory copying, a quintessence leak. A partial or complete breakdown of the transference system, which would result in lost data that could render her precious Robeast’s very essence irreversibly fragmented beyond repair. Any kind of failure would also kill the Champion, most certainly. 

Even if the transference process succeeded the first time, there was always the possibility that Lotor’s transfer afterwards might fail, or not succeed enough to override all of the qualities of the Champion she was imprinting now. So many variables, so many possibilities on what could go wrong or right with this one, final step in making truly artificial life. No matter what happened now, success or failure, it would be irreversible in it’s own way. No matter the result she got tonight, there would be no turning back.

But the stars moved still, time would still run, the clock would still strike for shift change in the factories, and alphas, betas and Omegas would die. Whether or not she proceeded, life in some capacity would continue on, as would her hatred. But if she did _not_ proceed, then she knew she would never have the chance to be satisfied. She would never see her own plans come to fruition; she might never truly see Lotor in the flesh again. In the end, perhaps it was inexorable fate, all drawing to one moment in time where the world would change forever, much like the quintessence spools and assembly lines within all of the machines in Zamyatin were all inevitably cogs powered by Voltron, resulting in the lifestyle that the Omegas enjoyed with ecstasy, while the alphas and omegas toiled in despair.

None of those people mattered to her, though. None of them would or could, and they could all die horribly for all she cared. They were all part of the machine that was Zarkon’s civilization, after all, and so long as his city stood, she would not ever find peace. It was this realization which at last spurred her, and she pressed the bright purple button that began the transference.

The holograph lit up in a rainbow of colors; the wires all around the Champion flashed white, while the Champion himself physically jolted, even while he remained listless. Tubes of quintessence began to fill up around the coffin as data flashed in front of Honerva’s eyes in a matter of microticks. She took a glance towards her Robeast; from the bottom of the throne, rings of bright gold and purple quintessence began to trail upwards on razor-thin wires, wreathing the Robeast’s body from what could look to be floating rings of energy from afar.

The body chart began to flash as the inside of the coffin began to glow, and instantly, scars were being listed and processed all over the physical schematic. Honerva quickly typed into the console to expedite outward physical scanning, and to begin the brain mapping. Soon enough, a new holograph popped up, and pictures and sounds began to flash through rapidly to the point of nausea.

Still, she could digest some of the things that she saw in the memories that her machine sifted through, uncaring of the potential agony that ripping open his mind so casually might bring to her subject. She could see the youthful, happy, dark-haired boy running in the Underground; he’d been so young, so innocent, and unaware of what was to come for him. His parents were hazy and soft in his memories, their faces blurred to the point of being submerged in a murk of prosopagnosia. It was a hard life growing up in the shadow of the M-Machine, but he had somehow been happy in his naivety.

She saw him being taken away to a school, to be brought up as a gentlemanly alpha, one worthy to be taken in by an Omega, only to be found sick. He was sent to the Ministry of Science, and she saw the small, cold, dark, sparse, joyless room he had to call home. She then saw the experiments, many which he had suppressed from his conscious mind: the chipping of his brain so he would be forced to obey the Ministry’s commands no matter what; the needles, the forced injections of a myriad of elixirs and formulas that made him sick; the scans of his body while electricity and quintessence jabbed into his nerves. The tests the Champion didn’t even know were tests, when he would be forced to drink something, or perform physical tests that pushed him so hard he collapsed. The constant stream of Flux and other types of quintessence that filled his body and altered his form, until he felt gross and inflated from how his physique changed and grew so strangely as he grew older. The gradual whitening of his hair as he lay down on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, trying to understand what was happening to him–the Ministry gave their subjects no beds.

She saw the word _Adam_ , and indeed the name had meaning. Adam was the first love in his life, back when he was an angry teenager looking for ways to rebel against his lot in life. Adam had been an Omega, surprisingly, but he had broken the law, and his punishment was life among the lab animals. Communication between lab subjects was forbidden, but the Champion and Adam managed to find ways around it; the few times they were able to spend time together had been tender and good, and they found they had much in common. They had loved one another to the point that they had even discussed going through that most taboo of actions between an alpha and Omega–a mate bond.

It was not to be. Two decaphoebs after his arrival, Adam died. There were experiments made on him regarding his eyesight, his unusual intelligence, and an old gunshot wound in his stomach from his arrest; the exertion and torture was too much for him, and he died on the table. The Champion had been inconsolable when he learned of his death. More so when he learned his parents had died in a machine accident–and it was not even the scientists who had told him. He had heard rumors of what happened at the M-Machine, and only a movement later it was confirmed by an M-Machine survivor who screamed it out as he was dragged into an operating room, never to be seen again.

She saw all the pain the Champion went through as, over the decaphoebs, he could only watch as he lost everything. He lost his brothers-in-arms, his arm, his looks, his family, his love, and finally his humanity to the system of the city. All that he had, once his use to the scientists was spent, was the Yoshiwara Arena. There was blood, gore, and the hollow prestige of a title that guaranteed he would live another quintant when he won by slewing his opponents-Amalgamation and prisoners, alphas and betas alike fell to him as he died inside from his actions.

But even this would not be the lowest point, for next was his purchase by Commander Sendak–his final victim. The fool had certainly helped himself deserve his fate. He’d been feared by all of those alphas and betas forced to serve him, not to mention most of Omega high society, and he was cruel to the point of being a sociopath. He had enjoyed scaring those around him–and if they did not fear him, then he would break them. But Sendak had gone too far against the Champion. He’d abused the alpha so badly, he had nearly killed the Champion–but also had damaged the chip that had long ago been implanted in him. Thus, the Champion was finally free to act as he wished. And when Sendak proceeded to have his way with one of his other alphas–and he was not gentle, oh no, he _never_ was to Shiro or anyone else. Yet he brought the poor girl to the point that anyone who saw her body might have thought her dead from the humiliation and degradation forced upon her–he killed his master.

After that, he fled, broke fully as every recalled emotion and memory originally suppressed by the chip overwhelmed him, and hid. But he learned, grew, and reforged himself into something new, even as he hid in the shadows of the ruins of the old world. He would have an epiphany of such power that one quintant, as he stood alone, he made a vow to the city–but more importantly to himself. It was a simple but powerful promise: never again. Never again would he allow such violence. Never again would anyone die by his hand. Never again would he allow anyone to be prejudiced because they were an alpha, or beta, or even an Omega; rich, poor, young, old, it didn’t matter. He would bring peace to the dynamics in the city or die trying.

Regrettable, Honvera mused as the memory download completed with him taking care of the children of the Underground as his new calling, outside of being a nonviolent activist. And Keith, Keith, _Keith_ , the Omega he found himself already having deep, protective feelings for, perhaps even love. It was a shame that he loved such a person, and held within him such a promise, one that she would force him to break utterly. Indirectly, yes, as it would not truly be his hand that did it. But break the promise, one wearing his face would do. There was no room for kindness in her designs.

The wires pouring quintessence back and forth brightened; the rings around the Robeast multiplied until it was almost covered by them. Energy arced and crackled through the room, from the coffin to the throne, where the Robeast still sat, unmoving and unblinking as countless yottabytes of life-building information was driven into every orifice of its being. A glow began to emanate from the chest of the metallic chest as Honerva watched, and she quickly turned as her console lights began to flicker dangerously, and the coffin-like box began to shake from all the energy in the air. The physical chart began to flash; the quintessence inside the tubes was bubbling violently. Honerva quickly turned to the console and pressed one final button.

A bright flash of golden light began to burst forth from within the coffin, where the Champion’s heart sat and frantically pulsed. On the chair, the chest plate of the Robeast began to glow just as brightly, the blaze blinking in and out like a heartbeat, in time with the test subject. At the sight, and as the light began to spread through her creation’s body like spidery vines, Honerva’s heart soared as the quintessence in the machine’s monster accepted everything, integrating it into its own body and shaping it all internally, until even the most advanced machine would have been unable to detect that the body had none of the proper organs or blood vessels a normal human might have.

It was _working_. Slowly, the light began to die down as the visage of the Robeast became hazy. Its shape began to warp and stretch, changing color to a pale shade of ivory; its socketless eyes transformed into monolids hooded over closed eyes, set below thick white eyebrows and nestled above a deeply scarred nose and square jaw. White bangs flopped down from the formerly bare head, and the Robeast’s chassis became more defined, more chiseled, fully scarred muscles. Large hands clenched the chair–one flesh and blood, one a full grey prosthetic–as the Robeast took its first reborn breath.

Finally, the light died down, leaving smoke that wafted upwards to the ceiling, and two grey eyes slowly opened, looking back at Honerva with studied intensity as she fell to her knees, her hands up to the sky in ecstatic supplication.

“My son…my beautiful son! It has worked!” She let out a cry, her hands shaking. “Oh, Zarkon, ye king of kings. Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and _despair_!”


	8. VII

Late in the morning, for the first time in several decaphoebs, Zarkon abruptly ordered his computers to leave Central Command, and take a break during their shifts. He could hear the surprised gasps and hushed whispers that everyone attempted to hide from him as they gathered up their snacks and cigarettes and notebooks; he could see them cast furtive glances as they made their way to the elevator. He watched them all intently as they finally filed out, the lift doors closing behind them. He said nothing to them, betrayed no hint of his reasoning for his actions. Not that his workers ever truly questioned it, of course.

Once he was certain they were all gone, he pressed a hidden button on his console, bringing up a holograph. He pressed against the keyboard that appeared alongside the holograph, which flashed purple, then gold as he input the data. The response that popped up took him aback.

Honerva had not only captured the Champion without struggle; she had finished her creation, completely, and was on her way with it in tow. Zarkon had hoped for progress on the plan, but this was unexpected. Truly, that she had finished in such a short amount of time was a testament to her depth-less and unrivaled intelligence, despite being an alpha.

Ticks later, the elevator doors opened, and Honerva strolled in, hands clasped behind her back. Next to her was a tall figure, his face covered by the hood of a sweatshirt. Once the elevator closed, the figure pulled their hood off, revealing the smirking face of none other than the Champion. Zarkon’s eyes widened at the sight; even though he knew deep down that this was likely not truly the Champion that he despised, that had been capable of downing Sendak, something in him could not help but wonder if Honerva had really achieved such a miracle with her Robeast, or if there was another explanation. Re-education of the real Champion, a hallucination, a dream of his waking mind–anything other than the truth.

“You see, Omega? You _see_!” Honerva brought her hands to her mouth, giddy as a girl who’d just split her first atom. “My Robeast's new form is so perfect, so sublime in its realism, that even you who knows the truth are still fooled by it!”

“It is...quite uncanny, alpha.” Zarkon took a breath to calm his frantic heartbeat. “A perfect mirror of him, indeed. But will it do as it is ordered?”

“He will obey and more than that. But you still seem unconvinced.” Honerva took out a piece of paper from her suit. “I anticipated your doubt. Perhaps a demonstration is in order? Perhaps the Champion would like to show just how effective he is, in the Arena.”

“The Yoshiwara Arena.” He wasn’t sure what she was going for, and he wasn’t sure he was going to like it. “You want to bring him in front of my Omega population, at the risk of him being found out by their more discerning eyes. Or worse, you want him destroyed.”

“Did you not promise me whatever resources I needed to ensure effectiveness in this endeavor? What better way to prove his effectiveness,” the alpha crooned, “than to show what he is capable of, in front of the far less ignorant portion of your people? One movement’s time is all I ask, Omega.”

Zarkon inwardly cursed his promise to his alpha, before he looked over to the false Champion. The clone, meanwhile, looked back at him with folded arms, the smirk still on his face.

“Robeast.” He motioned for the thing to come forward, and it obeyed, unfolding its arms as it approached. “You will do as I command, without question?”

The Robeast’s smile only increased as it stopped moving, its hip popping out as the hand of its prosthetic landed on it.

“Whatever you ask of me, I will do.” Zarkon watched the false Champion, scrutinizing it as it spoke and gestured towards him before letting it fall to its side, its voice just like that of the real thing. “So, what would you have me do, Omega?”

Zarkon stared as the doboshes passed, and despite the tension, the Robeast’s confidence did not seem to wane. How a robot could exude such a human emotion was still beyond him. There were so many questions the Arch-Omega might have asked, in any other circumstance, as to whether this thing, possessing an intelligence even separate from what it gained from its original, had a soul. Whether it had morals, what it thought of what was about to unfold, whether it even understood the ramifications of what Zarkon was about to ask of it.

But this was not any other circumstance, and this was no normal creature he was faced with. In any case, the fact that it wore the false Champion’s face did not make him amenable to wanting to know those answers. All Zarkon knew was the answer it gave him here; for now, he would need to be satisfied.

He brought his hands up, fingers curled into clawing half-fists.

“Robeast, listen well. You shall do this Arena demonstration for a movement, as your creator has requested. Then, should you survive, you will go into the Underground, where the alphas and betas have been goaded by the man whose visage you have taken on, those who now conspire against me and this city.” One of his clawed hands became a fist, a finger pointing at the monster. “You will destroy this conspiracy utterly, no matter what it takes, so that the inferior dynamics will never dare to rise up ever again!”

There was silence for a moment. Then, finally, the smile on its face spread from cheek to cheek, and with a ferocious gleam in its eyes, the Robeast slowly nodded. He seemed to almost relish the opportunity, and for a moment, Zarkon wondered if this was a mistake. But–no. This was no mistake. This was his will, and his will was that of the city’s. Zamyatin was the city of Omegas, and it would remain that way no matter what, so long as he had breath in his body. 

“…I will arrange for the Arena to begin showing him fight, starting tonight.” Zarkon finally tore himself away from the creature, returning to his console. “And I intend to watch this first battle personally to see what happens. You had best get him over to Yoshiwara, immediately.”

“Of course, Omega. Champion!” The Robeast turned to look at Honerva, who motioned her head towards the elevator. “Come. It’s time.”

As Honerva and her wretched magnum opus proceeded to the elevator, Zarkon felt himself sag as he collapsed into his chair. The air seemed to lighten around him once they both disappeared from his sight; with only slightly shaking fingers, Zarkon began typing into his console, directing the Yoshiwara Arena to cancel whatever they had planned, and to run on his command a new set of games. The return of a previous Champion, back by popular demand (whether that was true or not didn’t matter), for one movement only; he would take to his box in the stadium that night only to spectate alongside those lucky enough to attend.

Within five doboshes the consoles of his auxiliaries began lighting up. The news consoles began trumpeting what was to surely become the event of the year; the culture and entertainment console announced that ticket sales for the first night looked ready to sell out within a dobosh of becoming available. Gossip holographs and screens were immediately rife as to who the Champion might be, with bookmakers taking bets as to their identity, based on known surviving alpha and beta gladiators who had gained the title. Sales for clothing suitable to attend such a function were through the roof with the retailers.

As for Zarkon himself, he would also prepare. After recalling his assistants–and bluntly informing them that they could not attend the Arena themselves, for who would man the helm of the city while he was away from his console, if not them?–he made his way to his private rooms, ordering his alpha servants to dress him in his best tuxedo without delay. One adjusted his tie, while another stepped onto a chair and carefully crowned him with a top hat after brushing his hair; a third carefully brushed dandruff off his jacket, before giving him his cloak.

As his servants handed him his spats, his VAIBO watch buzzed. He clicked it, allowing the message to pop up in a hologram; his eyes narrowed as he digested what Zethrid sent him. He dismissed his domestics with a wave of his hand and proceeded down in the elevator to his parking area, where his urbanetic sporting car waited for him with its door already open.

“ ** _Good evening, Arch-Omega._** ” His car’s VAIBO greeted him as he took his hat off before actually entering the mobile. “ ** _To the Yoshiwara Arena?_** ”

“Not yet.” Zarkon placed his top hat neatly into his lap. “Take me to my grandson’s apartment and time my visit to 30 doboshes once I disembark. Inform the household and General Zethrid of my calling in.”

“ ** _Changing your travel plans!_** ” Abruptly the car drove, practically flying out of the garage before turning down the thruway between glorious steel colored pink by the sunset. “ ** _Traveling to Master Keith’s house. All VAIBOs detected within the vicinity of Master Keith’s household have been informed of your impending arrival._** ”

Zarkon let out a grunt, and the ride continued without a sound. Once the car stopped in front of the apartment building, he exited and placed his hat back on before he walked into the carpeted lobby. He didn’t need to ask to be buzzed in; he was simply let up onto Keith’s floor, his frown set by the time he came to his grandson’s front door and was admitted without nary a knock. Alphas silently zipped to and from the bedroom, and the apartment was abuzz with subdued conversations as a nurse and doctor whispered to one another, a Ministry of Order discreetly listening in from behind a large potted front. Upon seeing Zarkon, they all immediately bowed their heads and beckoned him to the bedroom.

“You grandson, sir.” Zethrid folded her arms as he entered; she stood at the foot of the bed. He could hear her teeth grit as she spoke. “He came to the Ministry of Order several vargas ago wearing a beta jumpsuit, ranting and raving like a quiznaking lunatic. My people managed to subdue him without hurting him, as you ordered, but his condition forced me to call in a medic.”

Zarkon glanced over at Zethrid, before casting his eye onto Keith. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes and bruises and black spots on his face. His pupils were blown as his eyes opened, and he stared up at the ceiling, perspiration crowning his forehead as he murmured incoherently under his breath. Next to him, an alpha servant obediently waited before dabbing his face with a cold washcloth, whereupon he shuddered from the touch.

“Well, he certainly looks a mess.” Zarkon’s frown deepened. “What is the prognosis, doctor?”

“Oh, Master Keith will be right as rain with time and recuperation.” The doctor placed his thermometer back into his pocket. “He is delirious but that is to be expected with his head injury, though thankfully his condition is not too serious. Nothing Medquint can’t fix!”

“I see.” The Arch-Omega rubbed his chin as his eyes narrowed on his disobedient devisee. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Well, we’ve also applied topical medication for the infected wounds on his hands–I suspect it’s from rusted iron, judging by the markings and the account of your minister here. As for the fever and chills, it’s simply a result of overexertion. It will all work its way out of his system soon enough.”

“Hmm, yes. Thank you. Call me if anything changes in his condition and say nothing to anyone else about this episode when you finally leave.” With a wave of his hand, Zarkon dismissed the doctor from the room, then waved Zethrid back over. He didn’t once take his eyes off Keith. “General. Have you burnt the jumpsuit so he cannot use it again?”

“Yes, sir. First thing I did was throw it into the fireplace here once he was changed out of them.” Zethrid nodded, clearly pleased with herself. “I’ll keep poking at it until it’s fully ash.”

“Good.” Zarkon’s voice lowered. “Now. I want you to continue to keep an eye on my grandson while he recovers. Be careful about who is allowed in during this time. Once he is well, I am confident that the effects of this little field trip of his shall have driven whatever egalitarian idiocy he’s been clinging to out of his mind, and you will be able to return to your normal duties.”

“Absolutely, sir, but…” He could feel his underling’s trepidation. “He kept going on and on about someone he called Shiro. I can’t for the life of me find a file on someone with that name–”

“ _That_ is a minor if _irritating_ nuisance that will not be one for much longer.” If Zarkon growled, Zethrid did not make any outward note of it. “However, to make doubly sure that there will be no more incidents of this manner, I have enrolled Keith into a compulsory semester at the Lyceum Le Roséen. I’m certain Provost Genesister will be able to find more than enough pretty alphas to take his mind off whatever might ail him in the future-or off any other unsuitables that might come his way.”

He didn’t explain why Shiro was a nuisance or unsuitable, or why he would need the services of an alpha grooming school for his wayward grandson. Nor did he need to elaborate–surely Zethrid inferred enough to know what might have occurred, and not ask anything else.

At this point, one of Zethrid’s minions walked in, opening the door with eyes wide.

“Sir, your wife is here.”

Zarkon’s head whipped over to see that, indeed, the woman in question walked in right behind the officer. She was, as always, dressed extravagantly; her diamond-studded teal dress was see-through to reveal the beige under-dress, contrasting with the black gloves and arctic fox fur that was wrapped imperiously around her torso and shoulders. A silent alpha servant in a teal hood trailed behind her, head down.

“What is the meaning of this, Zarkon?” The woman haughtily turned her chin up at him. “Calling me to go to the Yoshiwara Arena of _all_ places, on a night _you_ organized, only to have one of your ruffians drag me here to this…this _dump_! What in the quiznak is wrong with you!?”

“This dump is your grandson’s home, Ellen,” Zarkon replied flatly, albeit slowly, as if talking to a cross child who just wet the bed-and then proceeded to complain that they didn’t get outright told to relieve herself before they slept. “And as it turns out, your grandson is ill. I thought you might like to take time out of your busy schedule, in order to tend to him as he convalesces.”

“ _Me_? Play nursemaid?” In response, she rolled her eyes at this, before even looking at the boy. “Isn’t this why we have servants? The alphas can surely handle something like flushed cheeks and fevers without setting the whole block on fire, can’t they?”

“They usually can. But that is–”

“Well, then there you go!” Ellen motioned dramatically into the air. “So, in any case, I’m not missing whatever event you’re throwing; I refuse to lose face over something so trivial, so unless there’s something _important_ you need to tell me–”

Zarkon didn’t even bat an eye at the obstinate behavior being displayed by his wife; this was normal when the two of them were in a room together. The marriage to Ellen Sanda had been an arrangement of political convenience and expedience with her family and little more. One could count the amount of times they had engaged in sexual intercourse on one hand, and the amount of times there was genuine lovemaking in those precious few incidents even less than that. Beyond that, they rarely shared a household after they wed, much less a bed, to the point where they had no children. In the end, it was necessary for Zarkon to force Ellen into claiming Lotor as her son, when the Arch-Omega found himself expecting an Omega child thanks not to her, but to his–to Honerva.

It wasn’t the only time Ellen had shown herself a deficient mate when it came to her duties as the Matron of the Levels. She was never one who fully enjoyed or cared for the hard work or responsibility that came with being the spouse of the Arch-Omega; she preferred throwing parties, attending cotillions, checking out clubs and moshing in raves, where she might be seen frolicking with Omegas half her age. Her social life had always been more important than the general welfare of Zamyatin, and though Zarkon despised such a morale in most, he tolerated it in Ellen, if only because she did make a good hostess for official functions. That, and he had no care to deal with the factional troubles a divorce would inevitably bring.

Many in Zarkon’s circle knew there was little love lost between him and his lady, though of course no one in the know dared to say it to him directly. Even Zethrid locked up next to him, her eyes darting left and right as she looked for a way out of the unfolding situation without directly disobeying him. Zarkon, for his part, gave her a look and shook his head. It didn’t matter what his wife wanted, anyways. He would end this newest, pointless tiff immediately.

“Well then. If you will not do it _willingly_ , as my wife and Keith’s grandmother,” Zarkon folded his arms, drawing himself to his full height as he leveled his gaze at her. “I shall have to _order_ you, as the Arch-Omega, to look after my heir tonight, and to not leave this apartment for the next demiquintant without my _explicit_ permission.”

As he expected, any resistance, any fight his partner may have had crumpled like wet paper. Indeed, she turned her face away petulantly, unable to look at him, knowing that, no matter how much she wanted to disobey, she didn’t dare. Satisfied, Zarkon turned back to Zethrid.

“I leave it in your hands, general.” He adjusted his coat and hat before he began putting on his gloves. “I am off to the Arena. Make sure Keith is taken care of, inform me if any major changes occur…and make sure my wife _also_ does not leave in the meantime.”

With that, he left, ignoring the indignant yelping of his wife, with more than twenty doboshes to spare on his visitation timer.

* * *

To say the Arena was abuzz with excitement was an understatement. Honerva watched from the Arch-Omega’s private box, as people began to pour in, all dressed in their finest and most fashionable attire. Every seat was velveted in bright red for the spectators to lean into as they watched the show; the more expensive and exclusive seats had matching footstools and reclining options for optimal comfort. Up in the nosebleed section, avid audience members were equipped with opera glasses, and down in the front rows, the luckiest of ticket holders could easily reach out and touch any gladiator who might venture within arm’s reach.

The voices of ten thousand rose towards the domed ceiling until it was little more than an incomprehensible cacophony of noise. The smell of amassed Omega pheromones filled the air, mixing in with the stench of fried Dungeness crab legs, caviar and cognac buffalo cheese pizza, and vanilla bean ice cream with gold leaf and truffles, all mixed together to create a noxious, all-encompassing fume that caused her nose hairs to sting.

Just as everyone had taken their seats, the 120-piece orchestra in the corner pit struck up the city’s official anthem, the floodlights all turning to point towards the private box. Instantly, Honerva acted from instincts not entirely forgotten from her years with her Omega; she tucked and rolled herself into the front of the box before any of the lights could fully illuminate the area, curling up into a fetal position within the angles of the shadows that always resulted when the brightness was aimed at Zarkon’s massive throne. She let out a hiss as she realized what she did, as the harsh reflection of the steel bearings of the box above threatened to burn her eyes.

“ ** _Omegas of Zamyatin, one and all,_** ” the sound system boomed with the voice of the Arena announcer. “ ** _Your leader, Arch-Omega Zarkon!_** ”

He stepped into the door with spats clacking against the floor, standing tall and proud in his formal war, and the audience burst into applause for a full five doboshes as he sat down, surveying everything around him. Confetti rained down everywhere as Zarkon did nothing but stare, still as a statue despite the festivities. Finally, once the clamoring for their dear leader died down, the lights moved away from the box, and Honerva allowed herself to stand up and away, her back to the wall as she straightened her clothing out.

“Droll as ever with your grand entrances,” she remarked as she looked over to the back of the throne. “You are lucky these fools do not judge your leadership by your charm.”

“Enough of your pointless insults.” Zarkon motioned to the stadium as two large shaft openings appeared in the middle of the Arena. “Now is the time to see whether your machine man is what you say it is.”

“ ** _Omegas of Zamyatin, one and all! It is time for the main event you have all come here to see!_** ” The announcer started up again, and the crowd began to go wild. “ ** _Tonight…it shall be Champion vs Champion! Old vs new! Forgotten vs in fashion! And as always with Champion matches…it will be…TO THE DEATH!!_** ”

“TO THE DEATH!” The crowd roared, chanting with fists and champagne glasses raised. “ _TO THE DEATH!_ ”

“ ** _Are you ready to meet our_ ** **extremely** **_alpha gladiators!?_** ” The crowd screamed in delight in response. “ ** _All right! First, our current Champion, at 4-0! He’s tall, handsome, and according to his former Omega caretaker, he loves dogs! Give it up for...92614-11!!_** ”

The current Champion came up through one of the open shafts on a platform, dark skin glistening on his lithe, barely-clothed frame as countless Omega swooned at the sight of him in a navy blue loincloth. Bringing up his padded arm, he waved to the crowd, who reciprocated by throwing roses, handkerchiefs, and the occasional underwear.

“ ** _And…!_** ” The announcer paused for added suspense. “ ** _Now, the returning Champion! Here, at the express request of the Arch-Omega himself, for one movement only…if he survives, of course!_ ** ” The crowd began to lean in, tittering in anticipation. “ ** _He is tall…he is strong…and he is undefeated, at 42-0! You all loved him when he was in the Arena…now…give it up for…_ ** **OH MY QUIZNAK** ** _!_** ”

The announcer’s shocked shout came as the platform of the challenger was raised up, and at the sight, many in the crowd gasped. It was so far as they knew, _the_ Champion, the best and greatest, the one they had grown to love more than most others–the one that few realized was also the one responsible for the murder of Sendak, a fact only Zarkon and members of Sendak’s inner circle knew. He wore little more than a pair of sparkling silver underwear that only just covered his buttocks, while at the same time accentuating the bulge he possessed in front. He, too, glistened with sweat, but unlike 92614-11, he carried it far more confidently. He was also far more muscular, a fact that would not be lost on the audience; indeed, his beauty and physical prowess, the Arch-Omega had to admit, seemed positively ethereal and inviting in comparison to nearly everyone in the stadium.

But he knew better–he knew what the false Champion really was. Still, Zarkon could not help but watch as he threw his arms up confidently, spear in his prosthetic hand, and waved to the crowd with his flesh hand, a winning grin causing his teeth to be illuminated in the bright lights. Almost immediately, sections of the crowd grew silent, and Zarkon could see them staring as the doboshes went by, their eyes widening, their tongues salivating. He could smell the subtle change in the air; the pheromones were starting to alter, as his people found themselves beholding what could easily have been the most alpha creature they had ever laid eyes upon, judging by their reactions.

“ ** _IT’S 11798-75!!!_** ” The announcer, meanwhile, was freaking out, as was 92614-11, though for very different reasons, judging by the shaking knees on the smaller gladiator. “ ** _I DON’T BELIEVE IT! HE’S BACK, HE’S REALLY BACK!! HE’S…HE’S…SO_ ** **BEAUTIFUL** ** _…MORESO THAN BEFORE...!_** ”

The bell for the fight to begin echoed through the Arena, and 92614-11 straightened his back and began to step forward tentatively. However, he stopped as the false Champion turned to him and, with his unmatched strength, he drove his spear hard into the ground. Then, his smile still on his face, he mockingly waved his fingers towards him, motioning the other gladiator to come at him, to fight him. The other hesitated, and the false Champion raised a fist in the air, causing those in the crowd not staring at him to let out a roar of approval.

“ ** _NO ARMS! NO ARMS!!_** ” Zarkon watched his subjects. Many of them were already looking at the false Champion like a piece of meat, though the fight had not even started. Many were glancing about, looking suspiciously at anyone who was ogling the false Champion in the same way that they were. The change of scent in the air grew stronger with each passing tick. “ ** _THIS MATCH IS TO THE DEATH, USING STRENGTH ALONE!! COME ON 92614-11, SHOW 11798-75 WHAT YOU’RE MADE OF!!_** ”

Slowly, reluctantly, the current Champion dropped his sword. Bringing his hands up again to goad the crowd, the false Champion waited for his opponent to try and fight. After a dobosh of hesitation, and egged on by the parts of the crowd who were shouting obscenities at him, 92614-11 finally threw himself at the false Champion, letting out an angry scream as he went to try and lock the other into a hold. However, there was no way for him to even get close, as the false Champion was taller, stronger, and had a much longer range with his arms. Immediately, 92614-11 was grabbed by the neck before being choke slammed onto the ground. A loud crack emanated from the smaller alpha’s back, and the audience began going wild at the show of strength from their returning favorite.

More and more, though, Zarkon could see silence in larger and larger spates of the crowd. Their eyes simply looked at the returning Champion as he walked over to his victim, their panting causing their shoulders to heave up and down. He looked around with a scrutinizing eye, holding a hand up as his foot slammed down onto the crook of his opponent’s neck, forcing him to squirm and flail and struggle. He held his pose for a full two dobashes, as the parts of the crowd still shouting began to chant for death, for blood, for him to finish the terrified loser off.

Then, as if sensing their increasing interest in him, feeling their focus entirely on him and his actions, the smile on the machine man’s false face became borderline malevolent, and, sliding his foot off of the other’s neck, he struck like a viper, grabbing the man once more by the neck and holding it up as a hunter held up its prey with his prosthetic. The mouth of 92614-11 began to frantically move–what he said was unheard, even as the crowd fell to silence to see what would happen next. Nor did it matter–with quick precision, the false Champion grabbed 92614-11’s discarded sword with his other fist, kicked it up effortlessly to catch it in his free hand, and plunged the weapon right into the other’s belly. As the other choked and gasped and thrashed through their death throes, Zarkon could see the Robeast start to twist the hilt of the sword, his lips curling back from his mouth in a cruel sneer.

A cruel, powerful, imposing alpha, barely clothed and showing off just what he could do with sinewy muscles. It was just what the crowd wanted, and the behavior that was expected of an alpha, Zarkon realized. But the Robeast took it to another level entirely, to a place that was absolutely terrible and utterly irresistible-and the effect his action had was immediate. Immediately, everyone else in the stadium was in an uproar; entire rows of Omegas began to swarm to the rows, trying to step down and push towards the front as hard as they could. They all reached their hands out as the false Champion made a victory jog around the edges of the Arena, keeping himself just far enough away that anyone trying to touch him would be unable to, no matter how they reached out.

Thousands upon thousands of fingers strained, wanted, desired, the smell of sexual stimulation now permeating strongly from the thousands of massing bodies now congregated in the front row. And they all desired the false Champion. Soon enough, the bickering, the wrangling, the fighting began to start along the audience.

“I want him!! Give him to me!!”

“Champion! Oh, Champion, take me! I will set you free!”

“I will give you everything and more, Champion!”

“Shut up! He will belong to _me_!”

“ _Never_! Champion, Champion!”

“How dare you…!”

“He could _never_ love you…”

“ _You’re_ not worthy of him…”

“What did you say!?”

“You better stay away from him!”

“Why don’t you _make_ me!?”

“Why you…!”

Glares and angry words were being exchanged, and dozens upon dozens began pushing one another. Punches started to get thrown. The Arena security did nothing, for they, too, were so transfixed by the false Champion that they were also trying to shove towards the front seats, just for a closeup look, just for a chance to be spotted and acknowledged. For something, anything, that was given to them by the one they believed was the true 11798-75.

“ _Enough_.” Zarkon stood up from his throne. Giving Honerva one final look–as if it would cow her, she was simply smugly smiling back at his discomfort–he turned and walked out of his box, barely bothering to throw his cloak and hat on as he exited. “I've seen enough. VAIBO, call the Ministry of Order. I want three–no, _five_ people posted at every exit of the Yoshiwara Arena for the next movement. Have them bring stun sticks. I will not tolerate my Omegas starting a riot over a mere alpha!”

With that, he was done. He went to his car, barking at it to take him home, to take him back to Alcázar where he might go back to Central Command. Honerva had proved her point; the Robeast was as effective as she had promised, and more. If he could cause a frenzy among the Omegas, then surely, he would be able to do likewise to the alphas and betas, so that Zarkon could find his reason to crush the real Champion’s little peace initiative. He could tell himself he was indeed satisfied with what he saw, and ignore the deep gnawing dread that began to pool in his stomach as he was driven back to the safety of his headquarters.

* * *

The alpha called 68592-03 watched silently from the corner of Keith’s living room as her Omega mistress dramatically flopped into a chair, entertaining a long cigarette as the general sat down on the couch along with her.

“Oh, this is simply _intolerable_!” The mistress dramatically cried out as she brought a hand to her brow. “My box–which I paid a _very_ good amount of GAC to reserve for tonight!–is _empty_ at Yoshiwara, while I’m stuck here with a quiznaking invalid child!”

“He’s just sick,” came the gruff response, “and you have a movement to still see the show. I don’t see why you’re complaining, ma’am.” 

“Complaining, she says, as if my societal reputation _won’t_ be in tatters for missing the _opening night_ ,” The mistress grumbled as she took a drag. “The things my husband lets you cops get away with saying! Anyways, I _do_ think the boy needs to stop dragging on so with his hysterics. It’s unbecoming, sick or not.”

The servant did not respond to the conversation. Of course, she could not; even the thought of responding to the insults being heaped upon Keith were suppressed with jolts from the back of her brain, forcing her to keep quiet with a swallow. But oh, how she’d imagined the things she would heap upon that haughty, imperious woman, if she could. After so many decaphoebs of silence, and humiliation, and everything else. The things she would simply say to the Lady Sanda…

A pained groan came from the bedroom, and her head instantly came up.

“Oh, not _again_!” Sanda rolled her eyes. “No, that does it, I’m _not_ going back in there.”

“It would only take ten ticks, ma’am-”

“I don’t care!”

“Well, with all due respect, you _could_ stand to care a _little_ for your husband and glorious leader’s sole heir,” The general’s voice sharpened, and 68592-03’s muscles tensed instinctively from the underlying annoyance. Annoyance led to anger, and anger could lead to violence, even if the alpha was _mostly_ sure that violence wasn’t going to happen here. “Maybe pat the kid on the head once in a while, for quzinak’s sake, you’ve barely even gone into the room to check on him!”

“I refuse!” Sanda defiantly shook her head, “I will not stoop to such an indignity! Go on, now, arrest me! It’s more preferable than the shame I’ll feel when I walk into the Bauhaus tomorrow!”

“For the love of–” The general looked over at 68592-03 and pointed sharply over towards the slightly ajar door. “You there! Go check on Master Keith and make sure his alpha servants aren’t hurting him!”

She didn’t need to be ordered twice, chipped or not. Immediately, she turned and walked, head down, getting away from her histrionic mistress as she theatrically proclaimed that her life was over, her career was over, her social life was over, and she was going to jump out of the highest floor of the Alcázar so that she might regain even an iota of her honor as the premier female Omega in all the world. All the while, the Ministry general rolled her eyes even as the Lady Sanda began to work herself towards tears. 

Quietly she opened the door, her eyes lighting on Keith as he writhed and sweated beneath his silken bed sheets.

“No… _no_!...”

His eyes were large and glazed over as he slowly sat up, giving an unfocused stare towards a blank spot near the door. He tried to lean towards the invisible bugbear that plagued him as he brought his hand up, fingers shaking.

“Shiro…Shiro!” Slowly 68592-03 made her way to the side table, where one of Keith’s own servants was pouring a cup of cold water. Even in the dim light, she could see the bright red flush of fever on his cheeks. “Shiro, please don’t go. Please! _Please_ …my alpha…”

The alpha didn’t waste any time. Carefully positioning herself on the mattress so she might be able to access the water pitcher, she propped Keith up on her knee by his back so she could hydrate him directly. Keith’s eyes looked down, and he only barely registered that there was a drink being brought to his lips. He sputtered at first as she tilted the glass up, and water dribbled down his chin onto his nightshirt. Eventually, though, he began to drink earnestly, gulping down the rest of the glass like it was air he so desperately needed.

It hurt to see Keith in such a way. As he continued to mumble incoherently under his breath, 68592-03 brought her arm backwards to put the glass back down and feel for the handkerchief on the table, finally grasping at the damp cloth after a dobosh. Turning her torso back to the pitcher, she dipped the cloth and squeezed the excess out with a fist, before placing it on Keith’s forehead. Carefully she brought his head back down onto the pillow, doing her best to mind the concussion, and watching him as his eyes began to close with a moan.

For nearly a varga, she did not move, and neither did he aside from his breath. It was to the point where her leg was falling asleep, and her nerves began to prickle with pins and needles; however, she didn’t care. What she cared about was Keith, looking so sick and pale, with no one save chipped alphas like her, who in general had no choice but to serve his whims as he lived alone with nothing but a destiny to look forward to. Meanwhile, in the next room, the woman he’d known all his life as his grandmother ignored him, seeing him as a burden, didn’t even deign to look at Keith as he lay in his sickbed.

“Save him… _save them_ …save…!”

Then something changed. Suddenly, without warning, Keith’s eyes flew open, and 68592-03 barely missed being slammed into as he bolted upwards and began screaming.

“NO!” He grabbed his hair, staring once more at nothing. “ _NO_! Stay away…stay away!!”

He leaned downwards, more towards the bed with frantic movements, pointing almost angrily at whatever he was seeing. Whatever he was seeing, he was clearly hallucinating. There could be no doubt about that. But the unseen specter seemed to torment him, to taunt him with unheard words and unseen memories. Keith’s protestations did not seem to help him; indeed, he began to shake as the delusion gripped him further. He began to hyperventilate and sweat once more began to cover his brow as he violently shook his head, practically throwing the washcloth onto the floor.

“No, I can’t let this happen! This can’t be happening!! Grandfather! Stop! Stop!!” His voice wet up an octave as he let out a wail of despair. All around her, 68592-03 can sense the other alpha servants stepping back in fear of the outburst. Several even found the willpower to flee the room. “Shiro, _Shiro_ ! Why do you look so terrible!? No, stop, you are not evil, you cannot do this!! Please forgive me, I can’t stop it!! Oh, oh, these flames! Why must it burn!? _WHY MUST IT BURN!?_ ”

Then, inexplicably, he turned to face 68592-03, and for a dobosh, she could swear that his eyes were clear, despite their brightness, despite his flush face.

“WHY!? _WHY_!? _GOD_ , IT IS HOT, HOW IT ALL FALLS DOWN AROUND ME!! THE CITY IS GOING TO _BREAK_!! IT WILL _BURN, OH,_ IT WILL BURN HOT AS I!!” He screamed as he threw his hands up in absolute desperation. “ _BURN!!_ **_BURN_** — _burn_ …I must…st-stop–!”

Then, as fast as it came, it was gone. His strength left him, and he bonelessly fell back into his pillow, panting heavily as he shut his eyes tightly. In response, 68592-03 quickly acted. After gently propping his pillow so he would be more comfortable, she slunk off the bed and retrieved the washcloth. After dunking the cloth back into the pitcher and wringing it out again, she gently wiped his unkempt bangs out of his face before reapplying it. After some time, she poured another glass of water, sitting him up so he might drink.

All throughout the night, she tended to Keith. She was the only one who did; everyone else slipped away, or fell asleep, or did not care to take the time to have anything to do with him. But 68592-03 stayed, and worked, and watched, until, at around 4am, Keith at last sunk into a full sleep. He didn’t stir even as the sun rose and illuminated the windows, and she did not leave his side, either, even as her mistress groggily peeked in, making a cutting remark about how she was finally showing herself good for something after all of the decaphoebs under her ownership.

“Oh, thank goodness you’ve silenced him! I suppose you’re competent enough that I can leave you here until he’s recovered.” The alpha’s heart soared as Mistress Sanda dismissively waved her hand at her, then at the general. “You’ll see to it if she gets out of line, right? Excellent! I’ll leave you my VAIBO information just in case! No need to arrest me, see? Toodles!”

With that, her mistress was gone, before the general even had a chance to sputter a single angry word of protest. Then she, too, was gone, chasing after Sanda, leaving the servant alone with Keith. After some time, she excused herself from the bedroom to refill the pitcher in the bathroom and change out the washcloth for a newer, cleaner one. Closing the door behind her, she finally gave in and let loose the few tears her chip would allow to fall, covering her face with her hands. She had been able to hold herself and her emotions in check before, but she could do so no longer.

For the first time ever, the alpha 68592-03 had met Keith, the Omega heir to the world.

And for the first time since Keith was born, twenty-two decaphoebs ago–Krolia was finally reunited with her son.


	9. VIII

A movement had passed before Keith felt like himself again. The fever had broken and disappeared, as did the headaches, the chills, the cuts, and the concussion. He could finally keep down the things he ate, could finally sleep, and-more than that could finally go back to his life as it had been before. Mostly, at least–his grandmother’s alpha servant, 68592-03, was still present, as his grandmother hadn’t bothered coming back yet to pick her up and bring her back to the Alcazar, for one. For another, Zethrid–the general who was the head of the Ministry of Order–was still ever-present, popping in every varga or so around his apartment to check on him, and an officer was sent to patrol the hallway of his apartment–no doubt to make sure he didn’t just up and run back to the Underground.

There was another thing, as well. His grandfather had taken the liberty to enroll him into the Lyceum de Roséen, without even asking him, for a full three phoebs–a time limit that can be extended into the indefinite future at the pleasure of the Arch-Omega, as he might have seen fit. Once Keith had been cleared by the doctor and declared physically healthy once more, a tablet with the school’s holographs was thoughtfully shoved into his hands, and he was told that he would be escorted into Provost Genesister’s custody within the next movement. The Provost herself was delighted that he would come and browse through her selections of alphas and betas for his pleasure and expressed it thusly to him on his VAIBO for a full two vargas.

Keith wasn’t an idiot–he knew exactly what was happening. The Arch-Omega wasn’t going to punish him like a common criminal; he was too special, too important to be made an obvious example of. But make no mistake, this _was_ a punishment, and a means of forcing him to do what his grandfather wanted. Enrolled into a place that would hammer into him the tenets of the city’s dynamic politics, and unable to leave without the Provost’s permission, while being made to mingle among alphas his grandfather considered acceptable. Docile, obedient alphas, broken and crushed by the Omegas who did not know or care about the suffering of their brothers and sisters. And Keith would be forced to stay among them, until such time as he gave into his grandfather, admitted his supposed wrongdoing, and went back to the idle life of harmless dilatory behavior he’d lived before.

As if doing this would erase everything that he had seen and experienced during the quintant he’d gone down into the Underground. As if it would have made him forget Shiro, and the fact he might never again see that beautiful, wonderful alpha who had so wanted peace. It all made him sick to his stomach, and as he sat in his chair, he let out an angry grunt and threw the tablet away to the ground, where it clattered onto the hardwood near the fireplace.

A hand went to grab the tablet up, placing it onto the desk. Keith’s head bolted up to see his grandmother’s alpha servant also placing a very delicious meal onto it as well. As 68592-03 turned to leave, his eyes met hers, and Keith could swear that she looked oddly familiar. The shape of the face, the large dark eyes, the black hair framing her jaw. It was eerie, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her before. He sighed, and shook his head, before forcing himself to smile.

“I…I’m sorry about that, alpha.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just not looking forward to this _vacation_ Grandfather’s so, ah, kindly arranged for me. But thank you. This food looks really good.”

The servant simply smiled, slowly backing away with her head down. Quietly, Keith got up to sit at the desk, the smell of egg omelet and bacon filling his nostrils. He had to admit, he was pretty hungry after being given only soup and water for the past several quintants, and it looked like 68592-03 really knew how to feed him. His meal even included his favorite drink of Coran-Cola with a dash of adelhyde, with an extra garnish of vanilla flavoring to boot; he could feel himself start to salivate and the prospect of savoring the proffered meal.

Before he could start feeding himself, though, there was a knock on his front door.

“Coming!” He held a hand up to the alpha servant. “I’ll get it, don’t worry.”

He went to open the door, expecting Zethrid to be waiting on the other side of the door. Maybe it was the Provost, though she wasn’t meant to come for a few quintants yet. A small part of his even mind pondered if it was his grandmother coming to claim her servant, though he hoped that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t his grandfather–he never knocked, nor did he ever need to as the ruler of Zamyatin.

What Keith did not expect was for someone to suddenly shove him aside upon him opening the door, slamming it behind them as they did and locking every single bolt that Keith’s door possessed, including the VAIBO lock. Keith’s hair stood on the back of his neck, and as he staggered away he saw 68592-03 tense up defensively. However, as he regained his bearings, he saw who it was.

“ _Hunk!_ ” He surged forward, pulling the fellow Omega into a tight hug. “Quiznak, I don’t believe it!”

“Oh, Keith!” He felt his sleeve start to dampen, and he pulled away as he watched Hunk’s face stain itself with tears. “Keith, I’m so sorry I left you without even a word! Please don’t hate me! I had to flee, the Ministry came to your apartment right after you left and they told me they were going to do terrible things to me and I–”

“It’s ok, I swear I’m not angry with you. In fact, I’m glad you’re back. I just…” Keith frowned, feeling his heart start to sink as he took in what Hunk was wearing. “They…you’re wearing factory clothing. Did Zethrid–”

“Huh? Oh!” Hunk looked down at his clothing, tugging at it with a sheepish smile. “No, the Ministry didn’t get me. I put these on to disguise myself, and I’ve managed to evade their agents so far. I can get into certain parts of the Underground without anyone suspecting me, at least. Too many alpha and beta pheromones for people to even think about sniffing little old me out!”

“Well, thank quiznak that you had better luck blending in than I did.” Keith took a deep breath. “I’ve been worried about you, since the past movement. You, and Lance, and…”

 _And Shiro._ He left that unsaid, but he couldn’t help but look down at this.

“I’ve been sick,” he opted to continue with a sigh. “And now, even though I’ve recovered, it looks like I’m not going anywhere for a while more yet.”

“I know. I’ve managed to glean that you were taken ill from the bulletins around the city.” Hunk’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Actually, I’ve been able to sneak around the city pretty easily, more so than what’s normal for someone wearing this suit–the Ministry’s been especially busy at the Yoshiwara Arena recently.”

“The Yoshiwara Arena?” That was news to Keith. Then again, he hadn’t exactly been keeping up with city news, so he supposed everything from the past week was going to be news to him. “Why? What’s happened?”

“Well…” Hunk looked over to 68592-03, chewing his mouth nervously. “You see, there’s been this promotion by your grandfather, and there’s been… _stories_ coming out from there. It involves the return of a previous Champion fighting new challengers this past movement…an alpha whose presence has been driving nearly every Omega mad, often to the point of violence.”

Keith’s eyes widened slightly at this. A previous Champion? An alpha? And within the past movement, coinciding with the time that _he_ had disappeared? No, surely it couldn’t be. His grandfather would never allow an alpha who crossed him in any way to exist, much less to be brought back to a place where they had risen to promise. Especially if that alpha had killed one of his grandfather’s best friends. Especially if that alpha refused to kill again, if given the choice.

“…Tell me more.” Keith grabbed Hunk’s shoulders. “Tell me everything you know about these stories! What are people saying about the Arena and this former Champion?”

“Well…I expect that you know Kolivan and Antok Marmora?”

“Of course I do,” Keith blinked. “They own MarmorInc. and are constantly invited to functions at the Alcazar. My grandfather holds them up as the epitome of happy Omega matings, one that everyone in the city should aspire to.”

“Not anymore.” Hunk’s tone became somber. “They were present the first night, and they’d been among those who tried to storm the battleground for the hand of the Champion, fighting everyone else for the privilege. Then they started fighting each other, and come the next morning, their six-year-old child found them both dead!”

“ _What?!_ ” Keith’s hand came to his mouth. “ _How_!?”

“Murder-suicide. Antok stabbed Kolivan, then shot himself. He left a note declaring his undying love for the Champion!” Hunk’s eyes widened as he continued, his hands becoming animated. “It’s not the only thing. Every night at the Yoshiwara Arena since this Champion’s been fighting, there’ve been constant shootings and stabbings and rioting, with the Ministry sentries routinely carrying body bags out of the place! Twelve company heads, fourteen Orpheum actors, and I don’t even know how many otherwise normal people–dead! I couldn’t even tell you how many people have been injured!”

“That’s…” Keith shook his head, looking over at 68592-03, who looked just as shocked. “That’s insane! All over a single alpha!?”

“You’re telling me! It’s like the whole of the city’s Omegas are possessed! No one’s been going to the clubs, the Orpheum Circuit, the bars–even the Club of the Olympians and the Parnassus are completely empty! In fact, the Olympians’ has been where I’ve been hiding, outside of the Underground–no one even bothers to look over and stop me. All they talk about is how they want to go see the Champion before he leaves, or how they want Zarkon to extend the Champion's engagement at Yoshiwara so they can see him again!”

Keith let Hunk go, turning away as he did so. He closed his eyes, grabbing his own shoulder.

“…Do they also say what he looks like?” _Please don’t let him look like Shiro._ “Anything that stands out?”

“They say his body is like that of a demigod,” Hunk replied earnestly. “That his hair is platinum blonde, if not white. That he has a long scar over his nose, and that his expression is like that of a vicious tiger, waiting to pounce on its food as he massacred his opponents with abandon and ease.”

Keith’s hands clenched. It sounded almost exactly like Shiro. It was true, then–Keith couldn’t deny it anymore. Shiro was the returning Champion spoken of at the Yoshiwara Arena, and in his trail, death and hatred trailed in his wake. He took a deep breath to try and not panic at the revelation.

_…I would never again kill another man. Not even if my life depended on it._

Keith’s breath hitched.

_All my life had been violence and cruelty, Keith. I was tired of it. I wanted nothing more to do with the world, if that was all there was to it._

Shiro’s eyes and words had been so sincere, when he and Keith were alone. When they spoke of Shiro’s life, and of the violence he had to inflict on others. How he had been so sickened by it that he was tempted to hide away in the darkness, and never come out. Keith had felt that pain, that weariness, but more importantly, he remembered the hope that Shiro had spoken of. How he would have died happy if he could change the heart of even one person.

The rest of Keith’s breath left him, and he opened his eyes, looking back at Hunk.

“The man with white hair and a scar on his face that I met was nothing like that.” He held up his hand as Hunk opened his mouth to protest. “I’m not in denial, Hunk. But I spoke to him, face to face, and I saw how he was. He told me himself that he would never kill another person, even if they tried to force him to. I saw him stare down a group of alphas who wanted to go out and outright revolt, and talk them down from it! That’s the opposite of what you just described–something isn’t right with any of this.”

“But how do you _know_?” Hunk’s eyes widened. “Anyone can lie about what they really are, and alphas have no reason to be truthful to you! And this guy is apparently a grade-A uber-alpha. An alpha like that, talking to _you_ , of all people, would have all the more reason to lie to you about their true intentions!”

“Because he _wouldn’t_.”

At the accusation, not just at Shiro, but apparently at every alpha ever–just like everyone around him, who would parrot everything they were told about how evil and savage alphas were, and how demure and obedient betas were to them, and how that was why they couldn’t be trusted–Keith could feel his resolve, and his voice, harden. Maybe Hunk still didn’t know better, but even so, it roiled his blood to hear those words coming out of the other’s mouth.

“Not after admitting point-blank that he killed Commander Sendak.” Then, feeling a little bit petty, Keith threw some words back at the other Omega. “To _me_. Of _all_ people.”

Hunk’s mouth dropped at this. Even behind him, Keith could feel 68592-03 still from the revelation.

“So I believe the Shiro I spoke with, before he was kidnapped by the Ministry’s robot sentries.” Keith’s eyes narrowed. “I know nothing of whoever this new person might be.”

“Maybe he was, um.” Hunk gulped. “Maybe he was re-educated? Or maybe he was chipped?”

“He was already chipped, and even if they somehow knew about-chips only exert certain limited, specific suppression controls over the person. They don’t just completely change people’s personalities overnight!” At this, Keith threw an apologetic glance at 68592-03. “Besides…I know my grandfather. Commander Sendak was his best friend–his death was devastating to him. Why would he suffer the one who did it to live at all?” 

“I…um.” Hunk’s brows squeezed together in thought. “Ok, fine, you have a good point. So, if that’s true, then what is going on?”

“I don’t know.” Keith looked around, before spotting his coat. “But I intend to find out. Shiro’s been holding meetings after work shifts, and I think I remember how to get there. So…”

He began putting on his coat, zipping it up before taking off his VAIBO and walking towards the door. Slowly he opened it, looking left, then right, down the hallway. There was no sign of Zethrid, and the Ministry officer sent to guard his door was absent as well. They must have gone to the bathroom, or gotten food from one of the nearby automats. Given that Hunk managed to get into the building without trouble, it was likely to be the latter.

“I’ll need to go now.” Keith leaned back in to look at Hunk. “Are you coming along?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course you do.” Keith opened the door more widely. “I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to do. If I have to go alone I will.”

Much to Keith’s surprise, it was 68592-03 who stepped forward first. Keith blinked at this, but the servant simply smiled, a reassuring twinkle in her eyes. Hunk, for his part, seemed to do a double take upon looking at 68592-03, and he looked back at Keith, then back at the alpha. Some shadow of recognition seemed to pass through his fellow Omega’s face, though Keith was at a loss to figure out why. The only thing he could assume was that Hunk also thought that 68592-03 also looked familiar.

“…All right, fine.” At last, Hunk’s shoulders sagged. “I guess I could come along for backup, and I owe you for running off on you without warning. I also don’t want to know what would happen if the alphas and betas figured out who you are. Especially since…”

He trailed off for a moment.

“Since what?” Keith went to grab his shoulders once more. “What’s wrong, Hunk?”

“It’s just…” Hunk swallowed. “I mean, I know I said that I mingled with alphas and betas pretty easily, but while I was hiding out in the Underground, I still did notice a few of the Ministry of Order’s people coming around more and more often as the quintants have gone by, alongside the normal watch. Some of them were obviously officers, and some of them looked like undercover spies.”

Hunk rubbed his face as he looked behind his shoulder worriedly.

“I just thought I ought to warn you, before we leave. From my experience with the consoles in Central Command? When the Ministry starts covertly gathering agents in a specific place in larger numbers than normal, it means something big is going to happen…”

“…Then we find out what’s going on with that as well. And hurry about it!” Keith motioned with his head towards the elevator. “We need to leave before we can’t anymore. Come on! We’ll take the metro to one of the machine halls; it’s too risky to use my car.”

With that, Keith held his hands out for Hunk and 68592-03 to hold onto as he walked to the elevator. Both of them eventually took up his unspoken offer as he entered the lift, and as it closed behind him, he was at least relieved that, whatever happened, he would at least have people at his side to help out. Nevertheless, he felt his pulse quicken as he thought about returning to the Underground. He wasn’t going as an anonymous worker wearing the clothing of a beta, now; he was going as himself, the grandson and heir as the Arch-Omega. He didn’t know how people would react to him, especially if he was looking for Shiro.

 _Shiro._ He swallowed his fear as the lift plunged down to the street level of Level 3, hoping against hope that there might be a reason, an explanation, as to what had been happening since he’d been taken away by the sentries. He had to wish that Shiro wasn’t the one that Hunk was talking about, that it was someone else, that Shiro wasn’t a liar or a hypocrite or the very worst example of an alpha that they always spoke about in schools. If he was, then why had Shiro spoken so of peace? Why would Shiro have opened himself so much to Keith, even in such a brief time? Why would he have such kind eyes, and a sad smile, if he was little more than a brute?

There was something that stank in this whole situation, and whatever happened, Keith was determined to figure it out.

* * *

As he woke up and prepared himself for the quintant to come, Zarkon had made his decision as to the newest phase of his plans. A movement had passed since the false Champion had been presented to the Omega masses; dozens of his people had died as a result. Companies were bereft of their executive officers, resulting in either unseasoned heirs having to step in, or the city taking over the operations of those families who had no plan of continuation. It was a messy, lamentable affair, and Zarkon did not like the fact that it was he who had initiated something that had caused it.

On the other hand, Honerva had promised an effective agitator in the Robeast, one who could channel the real Champion’s natural charisma into a powerful and irresistible weapon. The result had been precisely as Honerva had promised, and just as she had also claimed, no one in Zamyatin had been the wiser about the truth of the matter. So far as anyone outside of him and his alpha knew, they were looking at the real Champion, back in the flesh to entertain, to entice, until the audience was wading knee-deep in their own blood and gore trying to claim him as theirs to own. If this was the effect the Robeast had on an educated, cultured and rational dynamic, then unleashing it on a much less worldly, dirty and beastly set would be devastating.

To that end, he’d already spoken to Honerva about the next step, which was to be set into motion immediately–the false Champion, released back into the Underground to agitate the real alpha’s comrades. Honerva seemed excited by the prospect, and promised that indeed, her creation would be speaking among the workers as quickly as possible. To that end, Zarkon did something even he knew would be incredibly out-of-place for a man of his position–he summoned all of the great and powerful to Central Command for a meeting.

He watched as the remaining, uninjured heads of companies and city districts filed in, confusion and trepidation lining their faces. Alfor Arus, the head of FalaCorps; he stood next to Sal Vrepit, the one responsible for all the city’s automat chains. Axca was there representing the Orpheum Circuit, along with Dyak and her Parnassus. Behind them was Malocoti Krell, the representative of the Architects’ Union, and next to her was Nyma and Rolo, part of the board of the department store chain of Beezer’s. Luxia Baku, the fashion house chatelaine, was in the hospital due to the Arena riots, so her aide-de-camp Plaxum Seirênas stood in for her. Ministry of Science head Slav Smiljan was practically clinging to his assistant, Bandor Kalani, while Trigel Dalterion of DALT Heavy Industries leaned against a console, looking around disinterestedly.

At the head of the group was Zethrid, flanked by each Level Mayor, each district councilor, and most of the street coordinators. Everyone who was anyone in Zarkon’s eyes–everyone who had sway in the city’s interests, those who could hope to have his ear, and the few who might even be plotting against him–he’d made sure to cram into his office. He even made sure to tell his ever-busy computers to stop momentarily so he might make his announcement.

Once everyone was there and waiting, he stood up from his desk, gesturing to Zethrid.

“I know this gathering is highly unorthodox. But what I have to tell you is essential, and you must all listen.” A small murmur arose. “There is a rebellion brewing among the alphas and betas, starting in the Underground. General Zethrid, if you will.”

“Yes, sir.” At this, Zethrid cleared her throat, before accessing her VAIBO. “At the Arch-Omega’s command, I’ve had my Underground spies infiltrate every worker complex from A to Z. They are chomping at the bit to go at us, and the only thing holding them back from making good on their desire is their rogue alpha ringleader, who was apparently preaching some garbage about equality at their last diatribe. Apparently, there’s another gathering being called, and it looks like it’s shaping up to be a doozy.”

“Mmm.” Zarkon nodded, folding his hands behind his back. “As you can see, the situation is becoming more dire by the varga.”

“Of course it is!” At this, Slav flung an arm out. “With just what you have told us, there is an 87% chance that a full-blown riot will occur within the next movement if the rebels are left to their own devices! And when you take into account the possibility of alternate realities where these alphas and betas _don’t_ take action within the next phoeb–”

“ _Enough_ , Minister.” Zarkon’s commanding voice had always been enough to silence even the likes of Slav, who was known to never shut up when it came to his scientific theories and experiments. This time was naturally no different. “Make no mistake, there will be a deluge, and it will come, perhaps even as early as tonight.”

“And what do you expect _us_ to do, Master Zarkon? Just let the lower dynamics stroll into our businesses and homes to do what they will?” Dyak let out an irritated hiss. “Our own security forces can only do so much without the help of the Ministry of Order. So what can we expect in terms of protection?”

“You can expect none.” Zarkon turned away from the group, feeling the tension in the room suddenly spike. “In fact, it is my wish that on the initial outset, the alphas and betas shall be allowed to do whatever they want, completely unimpeded. Should they rise up, you will all stand down and let them. This order of stay shall include your people in the Ministry as well, general.”

Unsurprisingly, this resulted in a burst of acrimonious shock.

“You _can’t_ be serious–”

“Let the alphas and betas trash our city!?”

“What the quiznak kind of madness is this!?”

“Oh, now the numbers rise to 100%! Not good, _not_ good!!”

“This is an _outrage_! How _dare_ you suggest such a thing!!”

“Arch-Omega!” Instantly, he could hear Zethrid fall onto her knees, with a thud. “Why would you order us–order _me_ –to stand by and do nothing to protect our city, our people!?”

“As I said,” Zarkon slowly turned to face the angry, recrimination stares being showered onto him. “This will only be for the initial outset. Do you really think I would be so careless with my city that I would _not_ have a plan for this?”

“I…” Zethrid faltered. “Forgive me, I wasn’t trying to doubt you, but this was just completely unexpected!”

“If you have a plan, then why bother letting the riff raff do as they wish in any case?” At this Alfor’s voice began to rise up. “So they can destroy our businesses before you actually decide to do anything?!”

“It is im _per_ ative that it must be this way!” People began to shout again but Zarkon holding up a hand silenced them. “You must understand. The alphas and betas have become soft in recent decaphoebs. They have come to believe they can do things against the order of Zamyatin without consequence. And so, whatever they may do when they inevitably try to turn against us, we must respond in kind, times ten, times fifty, times however much force we must use to crush the savages who would dare to stand against us! But I will _not_ do anything unless I am seen as justified in doing it–it is why they shall act first, not us, lest we be thought of as tyrants by our lesser Omegas. But whatever happens, whatever destruction they wrought will be _nothing_ compared to what we shall have in store for them!”

At this, he thrust his fist up, before bringing it back down and pointing towards all of them, from left to right. As he did this, he looked at each and every person around him in the eye, watching them all as they stared at him with gaping mouths.

“You have my word, colleagues, that I will stop at nothing to crush these enemies of the state–I repeat, _nothing_ .” He brought his hand back into a fist, before bringing it down onto his console. “The sacrifice we all will make tonight will be but a drop of water in a lake, compared to the flood of devastation that the lower dynamics shall suffer for their pride. And when it is all over and the smoke and soot has settled, those alphas and betas who are unlucky enough to be left, and those after them, will _never_ dare to forget what happened, not for a thousand generations!”

The group became still, and all was silent for a dobosh, save for the hums and whirs of the consoles all around Central Command. Everyone looked at one another, and it was clear to Zarkon that they were not entirely convinced of his power to contain what was about to be unleashed. They were cowed enough, however, to obey him, and though Zarkon would have to eventually think about the repercussions he might need to enforce on these people for their lack of loyalty to his agenda, their new acquiescence was satisfactory for now.

“I shall contact you all when the time comes for us to strike back. All you need do is go to where you may feel safest and wait for my signal.” Zarkon began to wave them away. “That is all.”

There was silence as they stared back, still clearly trying to process his order, his state of mind, his logic. Soon enough, though, they all began to slink away, leaving in small groups on the elevator. The computers, meanwhile, went back to their consoles, looking at one another as they did so, whispering to one another before they were cut off by Zarkon’s glare in their direction. Within a dobosh the Central Command was nearly back at it’s normal capacity, as if the Arch-Omega hadn’t just announced impending catastrophe to the best and brightest of Zamyatin’s lights.

“General.” He held up a hand before Zethrid, among the last left from the invitees and still on the ground, could leave. “If you would be amenable to taking over in my stead for a little bit? I would like to go for a walk before the night falls.”

“I…” Zethrid slowly stood up, eyes wide in reverence. “I’m honored you would ask me to even stay after my uncalled-for outburst, Arch-Omega. I will watch over the city like a hawk!”

“Of course I trust that you will.” Zarkon adjusted his suit, tightened his cuff links. “Keep me updated on my VAIBO, should anything unexpected happen. Also, I want to make sure my grandson doesn’t try anything foolish, so I trust he is still under watch?”

“He is.” Zethrid nodded confidently. “My men have been keeping an eye on him. He’s been stewing in his rooms all quintant, according to them–he won’t be going anywhere without them noticing.”

“Good.” First, the city. Then, his grandson. He would make sure they all toed the line. Zarkon gave a curt nod to his subordinate. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He took the elevator to his private quarters. After a moment of looking around, he took off his own VAIBO watch, tossing it on the dresser before proceeding back down the elevator with a fedora in hand. He didn’t take his car; he instead flipped the fedora on his head and proceeded through the main entrance of the Alcazar, head down and away from any passing citizen who might have looked in his direction. His face was buffeted by a late afternoon breeze; the sky was still a bright blue, and the sun was still high in the sky, it’s blinding white rays of light reflecting off of sharp steel façades.

The fate of Zamyatin was about to change, he mused, and for the better. The rebellion started by the Champion would be crushed so utterly that those alphas and betas lucky to survive would curse his name as they submitted to him completely. The savage and barbaric dynamics would never again threaten civilization with their poisonous presumptiveness; the future of the superior Omegas was all but assured.

Everything was going according to plan. He just needed to check one last thing before the sun set.

He needed to speak to her about when, precisely, the Robeast would strike.

* * *

_It is time._

He put on the turtleneck and pants that his original favored. Brushing his prosthetic through his hair, he looked around the tympanum. People were already starting to filter in as he stood in front of the candlelit table, watching them all as they congregated. He gave them each smiles as they came in, and in response, they lit up at the sight of him.

_I will not let you down…_

It was clear that the original was respected, perhaps even loved. He could practically feel it emanating from the catacomb tunnels, from the sections of the Underground slums where they lived, to the machines where they worked. He could feel the energy, the natural quintessence that moved through the air. It was inviting him to take it, to do something with it, to weave it into a form he desired. It was a tapestry of life–one he could ultimately only mimic.

_I shall be the match…_

He took a breath as, soon enough, a whole group had congregated around him like a preacher. He could feel his smile become delighted, even predatory, at the prospect of what he was about to do.

_…that ignites the flames!_

* * *

The Champion was finally starting to break, Honerva observed.

He sat in the corner of his particle prison, staring at the ground, prosthetic still dead, as she walked in. The food pills she had provided for his rations the previous quintant lay untouched, and the water was only somewhat drained. His head turned to look at her as she passed him to head towards the console; the light in his eyes was almost gone, compounded by the dark circles under them, and the expression he otherwise wore was as blank as a paper. He’d seemed to have all but given up hope of escape as he sat, knees up to his chin.

Not even the presence of Kova rubbing against the barrier and purring, as if he sensed the Champion’s agony and wished to offer comfort, seemed to help him. For her part, Honerva couldn’t help but find his pain amusing, for what was _his_ pain in comparison to _hers_ ? _He’d_ never lost a child. _He’d_ never been abandoned as she was, left in agony like a discarded toy. _He_ had no right to question _her_ for what she had gone through.

“Why did you not eat?” Grinning, she leaned against her computer, folding her arms. “You seem unwell, for someone so adored by the masses for his prowess in killing. You ought not to let your body go to waste, after all of the work the Ministry of Science put into it.”

The Champion didn’t respond, save to narrow his eyes and turn away from her.

“It _is_ unfortunate, I will concede.” Honerva hopped onto her console, watching him as she brought her hands to her chin. “Your memories showed that you are nothing like the Arch-Omega believes you to be. Your thoughts were all about how to turn your past, so full of pain, into a means of achieving peace for the future. I didn’t think you would be genuine in your aims, but even _I_ am willing to admit that I can be wrong on occasion!”

Still no response. Honerva leaned in just a little closer to the particle barrier, her legs swinging against the metal of her machinery.

“You spoke earnestly when you told your fellow alphas and comrade betas that you believed in peace, but tonight…tonight the one who speaks is my infiltrator, who shall talk of nothing but the destruction of the very Omegas you aspired to reach out to…”

 _That_ got his attention; he immediately turned his head over to her, his eyes wide with dawning horror. Slowly, one of her hands reached out towards the Champion, clenching into a shaking fist.

“Yes, Champion. My Robeast will destroy your legacy of redemption!” The fist turned into a pointing finger. “That is what Zarkon wants more than anything, that and the continued hegemony of him and his precious Omega followers. He knows he cannot simply attack his own workforce, lest those Omegas, who are less ruthless than he, start to question the efficacy of his methods. No–there must be a reason, and what better way than to make it so that you provoke your followers into violence?”

A loud zap came from within the particle barrier, as the Champion slammed his flesh fist into it. It trembled as violently as his shoulders as Honerva watched.

“… _Why_.” The Champion’s voice was raw. “Why is he punishing the people for what _I_ did to him? He could have made an example of me. He could have done whatever he wanted with me. I would have let him without hesitation, if it meant no one else suffered! He didn’t need to use his machine man to destroy innocent bystanders!”

“… _His_ machine man?” Honerva could feel her blood boil at the term. Slowly, she slid off the machine tower, and stalked her way towards the barrier. She brought a hand up, pointing an angry finger at him. “The Robeast, who I shall again tell you is _not_ a mere machine, is _not his_ , nor shall it _ever_ be, my poor fellow alpha!”

“But…but you work for him! You made it for him, didn’t you? It…” The Champion’s eyes widened. “It’s following his orders! How is it _not_ his?”

Honerva’s eyes twitched at this. If she did not think that he would escape, she might have deactivated the particle barrier, just so she might slap him. But–no. Even for his presumptiveness, she had to admit bemusement at the growing confusion in the Champion’s expression. She could only imagine the same expression on her Omega, once all was said and done. So instead, she smiled, viperous and cruel.

“Is _that_ what you think?” She let herself indulge in his dubiety with a cackle. “That I would suffer _my_ Robeast to _actually_ follow my Omega’s orders?”

She observed him as, slowly, his confusion turned into comprehension, then into abject horror. Of course he would eventually get it. For all his ignorance, the Champion was not entirely daft. Her smile only got wider with each passing dobosh.

“Yes… _yes_ , now you see.” She delighted in watching the Champion slowly stand, his flesh hand grabbing his hair. “My dear Lotor, for that is what my Robeast always was and will always be meant to become, follows only _one_ person, the one he loves more than the entire universe, more than his own life. He never denied me anything when he was flesh and blood; as a Robeast he is ever more obedient! His will is mine, and there is _one_ thing I wish for more than anything else–revenge on the Arch-Omega and the city he so loves!”


	10. IX

The congregation was large this time. The rumor had been circulated that Shiro had an important sermon ready, after a movement of further contemplation and experiences. There was a stillness among them, a calm reverence, a willingness to listen to him. It was just as the false Shiro had expected–everyone was practically stuffed like sardines in a can, all trying to crane in to listen to what he had to say.

He would say _some_ thing all right. He would say words that would etch so deeply into their chests that they and their descendants would never forget. At least, they would if they lived.

“My friends, alphas, betas, all of you…during this past movement, I have had a most terrible epiphany about my life...and yours.”

He could feel the pull of his link between him and his mother–she could sense his actions, could picture his thoughts and vision. He smiled again, and began his speech, one spoken so earnestly, so honestly, that people would have no choice but to assume that his words came from his heart. His false, mechanical heart, pumping with borrowed quintessence. That he was fooling these people who Shiro had considered comrades in peace was almost a thrill to him.

“You know that I’ve always spoken of equality, of peace between the dynamics, of how we might all be able to forge a new future together.” He paused as the alphas and betas murmured in agreement. “…But earlier this movement, I was captured by the Ministry of Order.”

The real Shiro would never have told such a blatant lie–the Ministry as a whole were unaware of his location, unable to even connect that he, the returning Champion of the Arena, and the murderer of Sendak were one and the same. The false Shiro had no such compunction, and he watched as eyes widened, as mouths gasped. People began to look at one another, their almost beatific demeanors starting to collapse.

“They took me to the Arch-Omega himself!” He brought his hands out, then spread them wide, breath quickening. “The leader of Zamyatin himself! I _begged_ him to listen, that I meant no harm to him or his fellow Omegas, that I, and all of you, simply wanted to be treated fairly, humanely–as any being ought to be treated! That we were all brothers in arms, that we all shared a common human experience, that we all share the world-city that has given birth to all of us! That we deserved the right to be recognized as people, and not just as our dynamics, not just as brute strength and demure shadows! And do you know what he did?”

His hands began to shake, and he allowed rage to seep into his voice as everyone leaned in, eyes widened.

“Do you know what he _did_?!” He more loudly repeated himself, sounding utterly devastated as he continued. “He spat in my face! Laughed at me, mocked me and all of you! And he told me, before ordering my execution, that I and all of you had to actually be _human_ first to demand such things!”

The pain, the agony, sounded and seemed real enough that the mood of the room instantly changed. He could feel the indignation, the agitation, the anger that was starting to rise as he described, in vivid detail, an event that absolutely, completely, and unequivocally did not happen. But they may as well have happened when he spoke of them so convincingly.

“He said, ‘How dare you try to lift those animals up to our level! Alphas and betas will stay where they belong–in the darkness, as our slaves!’” He gripped his hair with his hands, eyes wide. “I only managed to escape, and fled back down here, to the places where the Arch-Omega himself had banished me. Where we have _all_ been banished, for centraphoebs, when those among us are not otherwise forced into the personal service of the Omegas! Up in the city itself, yes, but there we are tortured, chipped, silenced, made to follow obediently like sheep!”

The anger began to rise, as did the voices that accompanied it. From where he stood, he could see Hira clinging to one of the columns, letting out a growl; on the other side he could see the alpha named Trugg clench her fists, while the beta Ladnok was grasping at the clothing of the beta in front of her. He took in deep breaths, as if to try and compose himself, but failing. If the audience’s increasing rage and attention were any indication, the false Shiro had them playing like a fiddle–and he knew it most of all.

“All the pain and agony and hardship that we have gone through at the hands of the Omegas already, and they continue to treat us like dirt with impunity! And they will _keep_ doing it!!” The false Shiro’s voice cracked an octave from all the emotion that seemed to swirl inside him, and shouts began to echo through the catacombs in response. “They wish us to be nothing more than thralls to be crushed under their fancy heels! Nothing more than mindless cogs in their machines! Well, I say no more!”

The crowd all began to converge even more tightly towards the arch, towards the candlelight, towards him. They wanted to hear him validate them, and so he provided everything they could possibly ask for. They began climbing up the sides of the columns, crawling to the steps of the shrine, their hands clinging to one another, if not on the stones and walls and dirt closest to him.

“We’ve had enough! The time has come!” The workers began to shout as the false Shiro raised his fist, and they also brought their fists up in kind. “Alphas and betas, we _must_ rise up and destroy the Omegas’ oppressive society, once and for all!”

* * *

Honerva watched as the Champion’s mouth opened, letting out a soundless scream at the revelation she’d just unleashed upon him. His flesh fist, still pressed against the barrier, shook violently as he himself staggered forwards a step, panting, hyperventilating. Whatever he was reliving, or experiencing in his mind at her words, Honerva didn’t know.

Next to him, Kova’s head popped up, and he let out a warning meow. Honerva ignored him in favor of relishing her nearing dobosh of victory.

“Poor Champion,” she crooned, as if sympathizing with him, though of course, when it came to the city, to her Omega and all those ruled by him, she did not. “You seem so distressed. Is it because you also fear for your _precious_ Omega, Keith?”

“You…” As the mention of that name, the Champion looked ready to scream at his helplessness. Scream, cry, it didn’t matter–she could see the hope he had so engendered die out like an ember. “ _You monster!_ ”

“Yes, _yes_ , call me what you want!” Honerva threw her head back and crowed with excitement as the Champion’s chest heaved more violently, no doubt for Keith’s sake. “But I saw _everything_. I know how you started falling in love with him, and he with you! _You,_ the murderer of the Arch-Omega’s friend, and _he,_ his grandson! That boy so believed in you, didn’t he? But despair, Champion–he shall die, along with everyone else! Zamyatin, all it encompasses, all it was or might have been–all shall burn as Zarkon helplessly watches! The city is at its breaking point, my boy, oh yes–when it at last shatters, it will be the most beautiful, most _wonderful_ moment of my entire life!”

“Oh, _will it now_.”

Honerva’s head whipped around at the sound of the new voice that echoed through the room. It belonged to the figure who stood in the doorway, practically filling it with his own frame. His eyes flashed beneath his heavy brow with barely-concealed malevolence as they alighted on her; his hands were clenched into such tight fists that it was a miracle that his palms did not start bleeding from how deep his nails must have been digging into them.

Honerva, for her part, hissed in shock as she stepped away from the door; Kova also hissed before dashing off into the shadows with a yowl. Within the particle barrier, the Champion let out a shout of surprise. But it was not the Champion that was the focus of the newcomer’s ire–not yet, at least. No–it was Honerva herself, and she could feel her triumphant mood vanish like sand on the wind.

“So _this_ is why you were so willing to work with me, _my alpha_?!” Zarkon was borderline growling as he stepped forward, his mouth in such a hideous snarl that, for the first time in her life, Honerva truly saw just how savage her Omega could look–and no doubt be, soon enough–when betrayed. “Tell me why I should not kill you right here, right now, you _miserable w_ _itch_!”

* * *

The audience was fully in the false Shiro’s hands now. They were like putty, to be shaped by him as he wished. He could have stopped right then, sent them out to damage some of the machines and leave it at just that. But no–he and his mother agreed. Just like in the science lab where he was created, there were only absolutes. And the city’s destruction would have to be just that–absolute and complete. So he continued, building up the workers around him, stoking their hatred and fury, until they were little more than a massive, ravenous, feral pack.

“They call us the savages, the monsters, but the Omegas… _they_ are the monsters!” The crowd began to scream words of agitated agreement. “ _They_ mark us with numbers and forbid us real names! _They_ see you and your dead friends at the machines as replaceable nobodies! _They_ dump their unwanted children into the sewers for us to raise while they take your children away, and then castrate you to prevent you from having any more! _They_ make your family disappear, and jail you and experiment on you when you protest! _They_ force us to fight one another in the Arena, and then they sell us like cattles! _They_ force themselves upon us after claiming we’re the sexual brutes, then put us through re-education to make us forget who we really are! _They_ chip our brains so we cannot fight back, as we are made to watch them indulge in sin and depravity! Then, when we die, _they_ Process us like garbage for our remaining quintessence through the emperor of all machines, Voltron!”

The response was an angry cacophony of roars, as his words aroused the collective memories of everyone present. Not one person lived that wasn’t affected by the system among the alphas and betas. The sound was becoming close to deafening as everyone shouted back their experiences, of mothers and fathers lost, of brothers and sisters gone, of babies snatched from their families mere ticks after the umbilical cord was cut, or children abandoned to the elements of the Underground without warning.

“And for what!? Because the Omegas have falsely claimed superiority over _us_!” The false Shiro threw himself further into his diatribe, almost theatrically shaking his fist in the air. Like a chef he expertly mixed truth and falsehood together to create a most potent meal for his followers to swallow. “But they lie! In truth, it is the alphas who are the true superior dynamic, with the betas as their faithful followers! It is the Omegas who are meant to follow us, not us following them!! They are supposed to obey us without question–and all this time, they have defied us! A crime, that back before the End Tick, would have forced the Omega to submit themselves for execution!! That is how it was _meant to be_!!”

Lies, lies and more lies. But the hungry rabble ate it as surely as Voltron–as all the machines did–fed the living food made out of the alphas and betas it Processed. The fools tasted it, and enjoyed the rhetoric they were given, as a man might savor a tender roast beef up on the surface. It was all too delicious for them to ignore.

“ _KILL THE OMEGAS!_ ” From the crowd, Hira leaped upwards, throwing her fist into the air. “ _SLIT THEIR THROATS!!_ ”

“ ** _NO!_** ” Everyone grew silent at the false Shiro’s yell. “Just going out and killing them won’t be enough! We are stronger, we are superior, but the Omegas are cobras. Simply cutting the snake’s head off will not kill it–it can still bite as it thrashes and throes! We must first destroy its ability to bite back!”

Everyone leaned in once again to hear of his solution. The false Shiro, then, let his true bile show, allowed hatred to seep into his smile as he threw his hands up.

“We must destroy the core of their power–the things which they use to control us in the first place! The _machines_!” He shook with delight and anticipation. “The machines which feed on our flesh, and oil themselves with our blood! The machines which pluck out our eyes and burn out our skin! The machines which cloak us in smoke and choke our lungs! All that we sacrifice at the machines, is for the enrichment of the Omegas! It is us who keep the machines alive while the Omegas continue to abuse and use us! Haven’t you stopped and asked yourself once why you let yourselves be used like that!? Why do you keep sustaining the machines that help to enslave our people!? Stop being idiots for once! Break the machines’ hold on you and let the machines work themselves if they’re so important! We know they won’t without us, so let them be unmanned, let them sputter to a halt–”

“ _KILL THEM!!_ ” The crowd began to erupt in euphoric realization. “ _KILL THE MACHINES! KILL THEM ALL!!_ ”

“Yes! _Yes!!_ ” The false Shiro leaped up into the table, causing the candles to fly everywhere. “ _That_ is the key!! The only way we shall ever be free is to start by destroying the machines! Destroy them all!!”

“ _DESTROY THE MACHINES!!_ ”

“ _TEAR THE INDUSTRIES APART!_ ”

“ _FREEDOM FROM THE TYRANNY OF THE OMEGAS!_ ”

“ _KILL THEM ALL!!_ ”

“ ** _NO!!_** ”

A single voice screamed, cutting through the clamor of threats and cries for violence. It was a dissonant chord in his symphony, and thus the false Shiro couldn’t help but look up and see who said such a thing. Indeed, others who had heard the word began to stop and turn towards the entrance way to the shrine as well. Slowly, the wave of silence rolled over everyone as they stared at the party responsible for the protest.

The false Shiro’s eyes met those of the one responsible for the interruption, and he could feel something stir within him. It might have been love, it might have been admiration. But if it was, it was a memory which did not belong to him. A shadow, to use and manipulate as he desired for the result he wanted, However, the moment their eyes met, there was no turning back.

He watched as the other’s eyes widened with shock, then narrow with firm determination as, at last, the newcomer thrust an accusing finger at him.

“…You…you’re not Shiro!” Keith’s voice angrily rang through the air as he continued to point. His voice grew louder as he repeated his statement. “YOU _LIAR_! **_YOU’RE NOT SHIRO!_** _!_ ”

* * *

Keith, Hunk, and 68592-03 didn’t come to the catacombs through the C-Machine–given it was where Keith had originally entered the Underground, it seemed unwise. Fortunately, Hunk knew of another way to get to the catacombs that wasn’t quite as slag-ridden as the way through the C-Machine, through a backway on the D-Machine. Even though it still involved going through a sewer, it was much larger, and the only thing that got covered by the disgusting waste was his shoes. They were even able to grab some flashlights beforehand, sneaking them into their pockets and coats so they might be able to see in the darkness.

Soon enough, they were stumbling downwards, and as they got into the ancient necropolis, Keith could hear the shouting. The closer it got, the more violent, the angrier the noise became, and the more the pit of his stomach began to fall out. The sounds were full of hatred, or rage, of death, and yet at the same time, he could hear the cadence of Shiro’s voice screaming alongside it all. For a dobosh, Keith was truly afraid. He truly believed that Hunk may have been right after all, as he broke into a run and stumbled into the shrine–and found Shiro on the table, inciting his followers to doing the unthinkable.

The moment Keith and the man on the table looked at one another, however, he knew.

There was no doubt that the man looked like Shiro, and uncannily so. Everything about him seemed exactly as Shiro had been when Keith last saw him–his body, his voice, his movements and mannerisms. Everything down to his scars, his clothing, his hair, and his prosthetic were picture-perfect, and for a tick after arriving, Keith’s heart had imploded at the sight of Shiro railing for murder, and his egging the crowd on to desire it; it was not the Shiro he had known, and yet there Shiro was, doing precisely as Hunk had said the returning Champion in the Yoshiwara Arena did–stirring up hatred, inciting violence, encouraging death. Indeed, he felt 68592-03’s and Hunk’s hands grab his arms, ready to pull him away should the mob have become bloodthirsty then and there.

Yet when their eyes met, Keith instantly saw it. Though this Shiro, whoever he was, looked and sounded the part, they couldn’t recreate the light of warmth and the shine of humanity that had emanated from those grey irises the Omega had been drawn in by. No–there was no light from within the pupils of the man that now took Shiro’s place, not even a reflection in the pupils. Instead, he saw himself, like he might see his own reflection in a mirror–a mirror that was warped, giving off an ugly image that did not reflect any real truth in how Keith looked. Keith didn’t know why that could be, or how someone could have such eyes that illumination simply reflected off them so.

But Keith did know one thing: those eyes did not belong to the real Shiro, and never would. More than that, if he didn’t try to fight the madness they were spreading, no one would be able to. He stepped forward, closer to the crowd, pulling away from Hunk and 68592-03. His outburst had turned their attention to him, and he seized the opportunity.

“Everyone! Listen to what this person’s saying, _really_ listen, and _think_ about it! It doesn’t make any sense! When has the real Shiro _ever_ spoken of violence as an answer to our problems!?” The crowd began to murmur in confusion as Keith continued, pointing at not-Shiro. “The _real_ Shiro made a vow to try and prevent bloodshed! He believed in the ability of alphas, betas, and Omegas to find a peaceful way into the future as equals! We have to work together–”

“That’s right, I spoke of peace and equality before,” Before Keith could continue, not-Shiro scoffed. “But hearing _you_ talk about how we should solve things is quite rich. Do you truly desire peace, or do you just not want this crowd to exact the justice you deserve to experience?”

“I…what?” Oh, no, not-Shiro was very good. Keith shook his head. “No, that’s not it at all, I really _do_ want to solve this, but in the right way!”

“Then why don’t we start with _you_ telling my comrades who you are!” Not-Shiro gestured towards him, the words on his face dripping with honeyed poison as he spoke through a toothy grin. “Alphas, betas, may I present to you Keith Melanochaitra!”

“…Keith…” From the crowd, someone shouted, and immediately, any hope that the crowd might be swayed was gone. “ _KEITH_! THE ARCH-OMEGA’S HEIR!”

Instantly the confusion in the alphas and betas’ faces from his outburst dissipated, and Keith was suddenly surrounded by angry, hateful glares that began to rapidly descend upon him. Behind them was not-Shiro, his smile filled with sadistic glee bearing on Keith in mocking triumph, as he began scooting backwards to avoid being swamped.

“Oh, _quiznak_.” Keith could hear Hunk whimper. “We’re so dead.”

“ _GET HIM!_ ” A beta near not-Shiro started screaming in what sounded like borderline ecstasy at the thought. “KILL THE PAMPERED, SILKEN-WRAPPED OMEGA, _BASH HIS BRAINS IN!!_ ”

This was going exactly the opposite way of what Keith had hoped for, but he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. A dozen men and women were on him, and he found himself throwing punches at people he wanted to help. Next to him, Hunk was pushing alphas and betas away, but it wasn’t enough to keep the rising tide away from Keith, and he was swept away by a particularly aggressive group. Meanwhile, 68592-03 was unable to fight because her chip prevented her from doing so; despite the clear fright on her face, she was easily pushed away as the deluge descended.

“ _GET HIM! GET HIM!!_ ”

There were so many workers surrounding him, so many grabbing at him and pulling on his clothing, that Keith was certain that he would be torn apart. Indeed, as he felt his coat being ripped off and thrown over his head, he felt people yanking hard at his limbs even as he tried to get free and forced himself to punch back.

“Keith! _KEITH!!_ ”

He could hear someone shouting for him, but with everyone yelling, it was impossible for him to figure out who, or why. For all he knew, someone was calling him out to kill him. No one was here to be his friend, after all. Not anymore, especially while not-Shiro was encouraging them, braying for his sanctified Omega blood to be spilled. He swung his fists, but he knew it would eventually do nothing. He could already feel himself cornered, with no way to flee through the catacombs to anything resembling safety.

Then he saw a flash of metal gleaming in the faint candlelight. A knife? A gun? Another type of weapon? He didn’t know. It happened too fast for him to process. One tick he was facing whatever it was that was being thrust towards him, aimed towards his chest. He shut his eyes to ready himself for the impact and pain.

The next thing he knew, however, he was falling back as a massive weight suddenly smashed against him, and Keith ended up tumbling backwards onto the ground, the weight landing on top of him right after. He let out a howl as pain shot up and down his spine, and his nose smashed into something hard and full of hair. He let out a gasp as blood began to drip down his lips, and he opened his eyes to find that the weight on top of him was, in fact, another human, back turned towards him.

“ ** _ENOUGH!_** ” Before anyone could advance on him again, not-Shiro suddenly spoke again. “Did I not say just killing him and his tainted ilk would do nothing?! No! We must de-fang the snake first! We must break the machines before we break their owners!”

“ _THE MACHINES!!_ Rip them out, one by one!!” A beta began to scream. “All of us together! Alphas and betas, united!”

“We must spread the word!! We must act!!” Not-Shiro leaped off the table, fist up as the workers cheered. “Everyone, follow me! The time has come!! _DOWN WITH THE OMEGAS! DOWN WITH THE MACHINES!!_ ”

The alphas and betas gathered roared their approval, and a half-dozen of them even lifted him up on their shoulders, as they all began to fly out of the shrine, into the catacombs and into the Underground beyond. Most broke into a run, as if to prepare their comrades in their cities for the white-haired prophet who bore them to their destiny. Some, however, paused to kick Keith and the human weight on top of him in the legs, the sides, the arms. One even looked ready to kick him in the head, before they were dragged off in the furor.

Despite the threat, despite the kicking, Keith didn’t dare move. His instincts told him to be as small and lifeless as possible, to simply submit to the abuse and to let them do as they wished to him and hope they really would leave him alone, perhaps even assume him dead. He did it with gritted teeth, but he knew he had no choice. He didn’t even know if Hunk or 68592-03 were all right, much less not simply swept away by the wave of hostility that swept over him.

As the din cleared, however, and the crowd dissipated, the weight on top of him let out a groan. Keith went to grab the person on top of him off, only to have his hand wrap around what felt like a very thick sleeve of paper. He also felt the blood that was soaking onto the thick paper; he forced himself to lean over in order to see the milky white shiv that was stabbed deep into the side of the man on top of him.

No–the beta. At his groan, Keith let out a gasp of horror.

“No– _Lance_!?”

* * *

“…my Omega–”

Zarkon didn’t even give her a chance to respond to his accusations before he struck. He had no weapons on him–for who would dare to try and attack the Arch-Omega? Honerva was fast, she prided herself on her quickness, but even she couldn’t have foreseen just how rapidly he closed the gap between them. His fist went right into her face, and she could feel her cheekbone crunch from the impact as she was thrown back into the console. She let out a gasp as she tried to recover her bearings, the shock of the punch still resonating through her bones.

Zarkon had never hit her before, would never have hit her before. Then again, she had tried to hit him where it hurt most for him–and though it was rarely spoken of, rarely seen, she had heard of his legendary temper when someone crossed what he considered a line. The last time he had been thusly, it was said, had been after the death of Sendak. It was during those moments, it was said, that the Arch-Omega would have no compunction about killing in cold blood.

“ _You_ …!!” Zarkon didn’t let her breathe before he grabbed her by the lapels, his eyes glowing bright with the gleam of apoplectic frenzy as he turned her to face him. “My alpha, my mate, I gave you _everything_ you ever wanted–I even gave you your life when no one else would have spared you for your unwarranted _arrogance_ –”

A lie, all a lie. What Zarkon gave, he also took from her just as easily. But Honerva didn’t have time to protest before he took her by the hair and smashed her head and neck right into the console. Sparks flew everywhere, and her cat let out a screeching honk as Honerva felt metal and glass digging through her face and hair. She sputtered blood onto the omega’s suit as he lifted her up again, slamming her head down a second time into the hard steel of her computer.

Kova’s attempt to intervene was responded in kind with a swift kick into the wall, resulting in a terrified, then pitiful, cascade of meows that came from the corner where her cat landed. There was no doubt about it, she realized as her heart began to thud loudly in her ears, followed by the loud pitch of buzzing silence as her body tried to compensate for the injuries being inflicted on her. If Zarkon did not proceed to murder her here outright, it would be a miracle.

“–and you _dare_ **_DO THIS TO ME_**!?”

As he lifted her up by the shoulders to snarl at her face with his teeth bared, she could see, even in the increasingly hazy world that her mind was perceiving, the blurry figure of the Champion stumbling out of his cell as the particle barrier she had erected warped, faltered, then died completely. She could just see him looking over at her, then turning his head towards Zarkon, before slowly edging away. Soon enough, he was near the door, with the Arch-Omega none the wiser.

She allowed herself a vicious grin as the Champion’s silhouette started to disappear out of the room, inspiration fueled by her own adrenaline-laced desperation striking hard and fast.

“You will pay for this, oh my alpha _you will pay_. Do you think I hurt you _now_? Worse shall it be for you soon enough!” One of his hands shifted to grab her throat, squeezing just tight enough that she could still breathe–but just barely. “I will send the Ministry after your _beastly_ creation, and have them throw its mechanical corpse at your feet when they are done with it!” He began to raise her up towards the ceiling. “Then, and _only_ then, will I kill you. I will rip you apart myself, limb by limb, in front of all of my Omega citizens, and they will spit on whatever remains of your accursed corpse!”

To back it up, Zarkon did just that. Thick spittle dripped from her eyebrow, down onto her broken face and chin. But still she smiled. She waited until he was done, until his grip on her neck loosened _just_ so, before she made her move, allowing her eyes to fix onto his.

“And what,” she managed to croak with something resembling a commanding alpha voice that held sway over its captive Omega. “Of the Champion you just let escape… _my foolish Omega_?”

It was enough. In a tick, Zarkon’s eyes widened, and his head whipped around to look at the now-empty cage. There was only one chance left, then, for Honerva to see her plan through. All her life, she was never one to let chances pass by. From the first time she had been caught messing with the quintessence gauges on Voltron, her life had always been about using those chances to survive and thrive in the harsh world that did not value her genius, a world that pretended it did not exist. This new chance was no different–and she took it.

Fast as a viper she struck, her hand clenched around the stiletto pen knife that she had managed to take out of her pocket while Zarkon had fixed his eyes on her face. It had been one of her clever little inventions, one she had uncovered in a pre-End Tick book about hidden weapons in otherwise ordinary objects. With a flick of the thumb the bottom of the pen revealed its true purpose, and she thus plunged the blade downward as hard as she could.

Zarkon let out a grunt of surprise, and one of his hands flew down to where the knife had hit home. His suit around the wound began to color red, and it only spread as he staggered back, releasing the alpha from his previously hellacious grip. His eyes widened as he looked down, then back at Honerva, his expression warping from one of hatred into one of hurt and betrayal.

“My…my alpha…!”

He ripped the blade from his chest, and Honerva knew then and there as she crumpled onto the floor that the Arch-Omega had lost. Had he simply left her weapon in, the blood would have been staunched; he might have lived and had his revenge. She might have never seen her Robeast, her son, again, and his city might have quelled the fire she had unleashed. Now, though, the blood gushed from the wound, his scent began to change into that of the putrid rot that signaled impending death, and her mate fell to his knees, still staring at her with shock in his face. Her stupid, clueless mate, whom she had given up everything for, who had watched her son die, and who would now die knowing his efforts were in vain.

Kova meowed once more as he staggered towards her, hurt but alive, a glowing purple syringe in his mouth. She could feel the quintessence come closer and knew full well what it was he had. It was the concentrated quintessence she’d used to prolong her feline’s life, and the same that flowed through her Robeast’s false veins. A drop of it could heal most wounds and illnesses; a single syringe was more than enough to bring a person back from the brink of death. watched as Kova stopped, looking back and forth between the two.

“Ho…Honerv…a…” Zarkon’s eyes fixed themselves on the sight, shaking hands reaching towards what Kova held. “Quinte…quintessence, please! My alpha…m-my love…! _PLEASE_ –”

The words immediately died in his mouth as Honvera gave her link to the cat a little nudge, and immediately he dashed over to her, dropping the syringe into her hands. She watched his expression crush, watched the despair in his paling features as she lifted it up to show him what she had. The power of quintessence, of energy, of life. Zarkon had claimed he had given her everything, including her life. Now, it was she who held his life in her hands, and she made sure he saw her as she plunged the needle into her arm.

She could feel the jolt of power through her, could feel her wounds knit themselves up and give her new evanescence, even as her Omega’s drained out of him and onto the ground. He slumped, staring at her, his eyes dimming. Then, as her cheek healed, she began to laugh as what just happened–of what she just did–began to sink in.

She knew it would be the last thing Zarkon saw–an alpha, his alpha that he had mated with, whom perhaps he truly did love once, denying him what he had always assumed belonged to him, laughing maniacally as he finally passed into a realm so unknown that even she had no knowledge of it. Perhaps Honerva really was mad after all to have killed the Arch-Omega without a second thought, despite her desire to see him live through what she planned for his city. Perhaps, once, she also loved him. Perhaps the city didn’t need to burn; perhaps none of this needed to happen. Perhaps if they had only talked properly, truthfully, without their dynamics throwing up those natural barriers, she might have, one quintant, drawn away from her desire for revenge. She might have even forgiven him, eventually.

But too late. The realization came too late. Honerva’s path had been set long ago, and she couldn’t leave it. All she could do, as her Omega’s body turned cold and his decaying scent emanated with the sickly sweet undertone that always came with death, was howl with laughter as her cat began to lick the blood off the floor.


	11. X

The false Shiro smiled as he was carried out of the catacombs and into the open area of Underground-M, where his ever-more rabid followers began to spread out. He could have killed the little Omega cub, could have allowed the alphas and betas to tear him to shreds. Yet, in the end, he restrained them. The truth of the matter was, the Robeast was in no hurry, at least when it came to that target. Whether Keith died right then and there, or later, it mattered little-his death was inevitable either way. The match had been struck, and the tinder coaxed to oxidize. Now all that was left was the flames.

He surveyed the scene smugly as hundreds, then thousands, tens and hundreds of thousands, began to flock to him. They came from all throughout the Underground as the news was spread by runners, and as the doboshes passed the slum became filled to the brim with life. All of the men, the women, the big and the small, the thin and the thinner–every able-bodied, working age alpha and beta not at a machine or enslaved up in the city were soon all gathered in the center of Underground-M, on the ground, stuffed in buildings, shouting and screaming for not-Shiro to lead them in triumphant battle. Their scent begged for vengeance; he would naturally yield it in spades.

“Come, everyone!” Not-Shiro pointed to the elevators leading up to the machines. “To the machines!!”

The rabble rallied, fists in the air and improvised weaponry in hand, as he led the charge. Into the first elevator he went, waving in as many people as he could to come with him. It was an all too easy task, and his elevator was filled to the point of nearly breaking from the weight of people. As he watched out of the corners of his eyes, every other elevator that he could see from his changing vantage point was also being swamped in the same way, even as others ran into the other sections of the Underground city to use their lifts.

“Leave no worker behind!” He shouted one more time to the remaining people below before the elevator lifted him out of the concrete conurbation. “Let all alphas and betas rise up!”

Before his group was briefly plunged into the darkness of the shafts, not-Shiro spotted a small child looking out from a window, her wide eyes looking at the fracas curiously. Her mouth moved, forming a single, two-syllable word, but no one among the workers responded to her call. She tried shouting, louder and more scared; not-Shiro could easily single her cries out with his superior hearing, even though it was clear that no one else could hear her. Finally, after one last scream, her face reddened and scrunched up in defeat, tears forming in her eyes, before she slowly leaned back in, ignored by the crowd and the caretaker who was no doubt among their number.

Nor was she the only one. Dozens of children were looking out through doors, windows, and even being passed by on the ground by hundreds of angry, venomous adults. They all watched, stunned, confused, and wide-eyed, as their parents and guardians proceeded on a crusade they did not understand and would not be allowed to join. There were, not-Shiro knew, hundreds of other children in other complexes in the Underground, who were being left in that exact situation at that very tick.

It was _exactly_ what he–and his mother–had hoped for.

 _This is…_ No one could see the utter, baleful delight in his grin at the sight as they all shot upwards towards the M-Machine. _Perfect._

* * *

“Lance… _Lance_!!”

Lance’s face was pale, his designation cap on the floor with the number 11811-R-19 on it, and his jumpsuit stained with blood, as Keith hurriedly readjusted his position under him. Crawling backwards until the beta’s head could rest in his lap, he watched in horror as the blood from the embedded knife continued to soak into the white paper that the weapon was ostensibly made of. The scent that came off of Lance was one tinged with fear, and the iron of blood that always came with such an injury.

It hit him as the ticks passed by, what he was seeing, beyond the injury, beyond the blood. Lance, who’d gotten in trouble because of Keith and had every real reason to let him die, was once more hurt because of his foolishness. Now, he might really die if he didn’t do something quick.

Immediately his hands went to grab at the hilt, in order to pull it out, to stop the blood. Before he could, though, 68592-03’s hands dove in and grabbed his wrists. He looked up at her, bewildered, to see her quickly shaking her head.

“I…” Keith faltered. “But he’s been stabbed, we have to–”

“No, she’s right. We need to keep that in him and not touch it so he doesn’t completely bleed out!” Hunk crawled over with Keith’s now-trampled jacket, throwing it around Lance’s hips and tying it tightly around his torso with the arms. Lance let out a pained grunt as the makeshift tourniquet was set. “You _never_ take out an object embedded like this without the help of a doctor. I learned that lesson when Prorok accidentally got impaled with a javelin during practice.”

“Oh…right, I remember that.” Keith winced at the memory; it was all over the news. “Uh, did he ever recover from that?”

“Well, he _was_ waiting for his new spine transplant, last I checked…”

“His _spine_!?” Lance squeaked as he was cradled in Keith’s arms. “Is that near the kidney!? Because I think I was just stabbed in the kidney!!”

“Uh, no, your spine is fine.” Hunk sighed. “I don’t know about any of your kidneys, but this is a serious injury regardless.”

“I won’t die, will I!?” Lance’s eyes bugged out. “I…what about Allura? The babies!? I haven’t seen them in a movement, will I ever see them again!?”

Keith’s eyes narrowed at those words.

“You will.” He looked over at Hunk. “The Club of the Olympians has medical facilities on-site, don’t they?”

“I–” Hunk’s eyes widened. “I mean, yeah, they do, and I know things have been lax lately, but do you think they’ll even let him in, much less treat him? He’s still a beta.”

“I don’t know, but right now that’s our only real option.” Keith managed to bring a hand up from under Lance, running it through his hair. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, given you’re a fugitive–”

“Eh, I get it, Keith.” Hunk cracked a small smile. “I’ve broken several dozen laws in the past movement, so what’s several dozen more tonight? Here, give him to me.”

Nodding, Keith quickly made to move so Hunk could grab Lance. To his surprise, Hunk easily lifted Lance into his arms as the beta let out a whimper.

“OwowowowOW _OW_!!” Lance buried his head into Hunk’s neck. “Why does being stabbed have to _hurt_!?”

“Because you were _stabbed_ , of course!” Hunk carried Lance like the other was his beta bride as he adjusted his grip. “Come on, stop scenting me so hard, you’ll be ok. Keith, are you coming?”

Keith looked at Hunk with Lance, before looking at 68592-03. His eyes narrowed, before he shook his head. He didn’t even need to think about what he was going to do.

“No. I’m going to stay down here for now.” Slowly he stood up, dusting himself off. “If that person masquerading as Shiro really plans on destroying the machines, then there might be more people injured or worse down here. Plus, I get the feeling Lance would kill me if I didn’t at least go and check on his alpha before I try to get down to the bottom of things.”

“Well, that’s true. And you do owe me for getting stabbed,” Lance nodded, before his eyes widened as he realized what he was saying. “Ah! No, I mean–I don’t _actually_ want you to be stabbed! I really mean–”

“I get it.” Keith held a hand up. “I’ll figure something out. In the meantime, Hunk? Take him out of here.”

“To the Club of the Olympians with you, then! At least I hope I can get in with you…” Hunk began to walk off into the darkness with Lance in his arms. After several steps, however, he paused and turned back, worry in his expression and mist in his eyes. “Just…Master Keith? Promise me you’ll go home after checking on Allura and stay there. I know you want to help to stop whatever the quiznak is going to happen, but…I really wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got hurt again, or worse!”

“…I promise.” At this, Keith felt 68592-03 press her hands against his shoulders. “And I guess she won’t let me get too far, either, huh? I mean, you don’t have to stay…”

He looked over to see her tight smile as she shook her head, squeezing his shoulders more tightly at the invitation to depart. It was odd to see an alpha servant be so protective over him, especially since, despite the overwhelming sense of familiarity he felt every time he looked at her face, he was very certain he’d never properly met her before his illness. Still, it was her will to go with him, and after everything he’d seen and gone through, he didn’t have the heart to force her to leave him.

So, he nodded as Hunk spirited Lance off, turning to face the alpha servant.

“Come on. Let’s get to Underground-C.” He offered his hand, and she took it. “Just…fair warning if you don't know, the way there is going to smell terribly…”

* * *

The revolt of the alphas and betas was underway.

The false Shiro didn’t even have to direct people to go to those still toiling at the machines; his rowdy band did it for him. As he ran through the halls of the M-Machine, he could see the rebels grabbing at their friends and loved ones whose attention was forcibly engrossed on their job. He could hear them demand that they abandon their machines. Most did so immediately, immediately infected by the excitement, by the prospect of finally being free of their Omega overlords. Only a few had to be forcibly dragged away from their stations, and even fewer were beaten until they finally agreed to join. The alpha foremen were beaten up and dragged away for their decaphoebs of betrayal; only a few returned alive to join the movement. The Omega foremen of the M-Machine, meanwhile, instead of staying and threatening what they couldn’t stop, mostly ran from the mob. A few locked themselves in the main office, but the false Shiro allowed a group of betas to bust the door down. He watched as the foremen were roughed up, before he intervened by grabbing one of them by the chin, shaking his head with a smirk.

“All right then! Looks like Champion’s decided we’ll let you live, for now. If you run,” he watched as the beta his original knew as Hepta mocked. “Go, you and your fellow flunkies, get yourself home and prepare your family for our arrival on the surface! Maybe if you’re hospitable to us, who knows! Maybe _you’ll_ be the ones working what's left of this machine come tomorrow! _HA_!”

The Robeast turned after the betas laughed and let the managers flee in terror, before turning his eye to the main terminal of the M-Machine. Alphas and betas still worked the knobs and levers in calculated time, even as a group of alphas ran up the stairs, shouting for them to abandon their posts. Most, he saw as he ran up to the impasse, looked reluctant. The rest pretended not to listen, still working frantically so as not to get in trouble when the bosses came around.

“Screw your courage to the sticking place!” He bounded up to the top of the stairs, two at a time, until he was visible to everyone still working on the M-Machine. “Let the machines overheat and destroy themselves! The Omegas will no longer hold us down! Processing will not be done to you tonight or ever again–your freedom is just within reach! _JOIN US_!”

His words, his presence, his seeming sincerity all had the desired effect, and soon the entirety of the M-Machine workers were either on his side and abandoning the work, or too timid and scared to try and argue. He clapped his hands with a laugh, then pumped his fist in the air; everyone followed suit as the M-Machine belched smoke and sputtered without its manpower. Just like that, the M-Machine had fallen into their hands, and would soon overload and explode. Such a thing would cause the water tanks that kept the system cool to rupture, and after _that_ …well. It would only be a matter of time before they all found out.

“Champion!” As he was raised again on the shoulders of the alphas and betas who adored him, he spotted Hira pushing to him. “All the machines have been stopped! We will destroy them now!”

“No, not all.” The Robeast clenched his fists, his smile laced with unmitigated glee. “To destroy these machines, we must strike at what allows them to run in the first place! The machine that is first and most important to the Omegas!”

At this, he pointed to a large red door, framed with yellow metal. It was marked **WARNING: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT**. As the alphas and betas turned to look at the door, the false Shiro could see their eyes widen. They knew where the red door led. Down into the Tunnels of the Five Elements, until they converged onto one location. That location was the very heart of Zamyatin, symbolically and literally, for it was there that the energy that let everything in the world the Omegas had built work was created. It was there that quintessence was born–and where the bodies of the dead disappeared to feed the Omega’s endless appetites.

“Voltron.” The false-Shiro’s voice raised in triumph as his followers hungrily looked at the red door. “Spread the word to all our fighters! _TO VOLTRON!!_ ”

* * *

When the E-Machine had erupted in chaos, 57291-E-2 had barely managed to flee. He saw his fellow foremen being harassed, beaten, even stabbed, by his bloodthirsty compatriots; he–known as Mitch by his family–knew exactly what was going on then. He knew that if the lettered machine fell, there would be one place the rebels would all converge on next. And if that fell, if Voltron fell…he ran down the E-Machine maintenance stairway, his boots pounding down the hallway that led to the great industrial heart of Zamyatin.

The overseers and engineers of the great machine, all Omegas, stopped what they were doing as they saw him run in, panting and sweating. Several narrowed their eyes, as if insulted by his presence; Mitch knew that simply coming into this place with his dynamic guaranteed a death sentence. At that moment, though, it didn’t matter.

“Flee! _Flee!_ Run for your lives!” He gesticulated wildly at the Omegas who began bearing their stun batons. “The machines have fallen to rebels! There are alphas and betas out in open revolt and they mean to kill you all!”

“How _dare_ you come in here, alpha, spouting such foolishness!” One of the Omegas pointed accusingly. “Someone call the Ministry of Order to drag this riffraff out!”

“They won’t come! We tried upstairs! They refused our hails!” As the stun batons came closer, Mitch pointed to his designation cap. “I am 57291-E-2, I’m a foreman of the E-Machine! I don’t want to break the law, but if you don’t go you will all be killed! You _must_ listen, I saw it happen with my own eyes!”

“He’s right!” From up on the communications berth, another Omega shouted down, his voice laced with panic. “There are multiple red alerts on all the machines upstairs, and the Ministry of Order isn’t responding to any calls on the emergency frequencies…!”

There was silence among the overseers as they looked at one another, standing down from Mitch. He could see the fear in their faces, the worry etched beneath their eyes. He didn’t understand why in the world the Ministry wouldn’t try and save Voltron, of all things, and neither did they. But as the ticks passed, the Omegas finally seemed to wake up to the reality of their situation.

“They…this is unheard of. If we abandon Voltron, then all is lost. But it seems the Ministry has left us no choice. We’re not fighters.” Finally, one of them slowly spoke. “We can’t leave through the machine halls, so we need to go through the emergency exits. But someone will need to stay behind to seal the hermetic doors.”

“I’ll do it.” Mitch instantly raised his hand. “I can do it!”

“But can we _trust_ an alpha?” A female piped up, looking worriedly at Mitch. Mitch, in response, rolled his eyes; while he was used to it, this wasn’t the time to question his motives. “Especially if the alphas and betas are rising up?”

“Why would I warn you if I _was_ with the mutineers!?” Mitch threw his hands up. “Stop deliberating, you’re running out of time! You need to get out of here before they come!”

“What about _you_ , alpha?” The woman pressed on regardless. “Why don’t you run?”

“Someone needs to stay behind, right? And I’m from among their dynamics–they might listen to reason, once they see who I am.” Mitch doubted it, given the savagery he saw, but it seemed to be enough to assuage the female and any remaining doubt among the Omegas. “They definitely won’t hesitate to kill you on sight, but I could have a chance to stop this.”

“...All right.” The engineers finally started to step away. “Everyone, let’s get out of here. I can only hope the Arch-Omega forgives us…!”

With that, the group of Omegas dispersed, running up stairs through emergency exit doors, and Mitch was left alone. Immediately he wandered up to the dais where Voltron’s controls sat, and, with a mighty pull, turned the large lever that activated the hermetic doors. Instantly the massive steel doors slid closed, their mechanisms connected together through magnetic locks. He rubbed the sweat off of his brow and took a step back, allowing himself his first and possibly last look at the literal, mechanical heart of Zamyatin.

Of all the machines, none was of greater importance than Voltron. It was a massive construct of several hundred meters, shaped almost like a giant’s torso and head, both colored black, with large antennas that sparked and released extra static from its Processing work into the air. Its eyes were embedded with quintessence tanks that glowed yellow as it seemed to stare down at the room below. Its hands were massive rotors, one red and one green, while on the sides were the giant quintessence processing units, one blue and one yellow, which connected to every machine hall in the city through massive tubes. Such was its massive output and power, that it was also connected to giant water tanks, hidden from the world, filled with nearly 2 billion liters of water, to keep it cool.

No sooner had the doors finished closing, than he heard the bangs and slams of hands and weapons against it, coming from the other side. Mitch’s eyes widened, and he looked around for something, anything, that could save Voltron. They couldn’t get through the doors, at least for the moment, but the E-Machine was down, and at any time the electricity could start to die. When that happened, it was more than possible that the door’s mechanisms would go along with the power, and then where would he be?

Finally, he alighted on the last resort he was looking for: a communication panel labeled **ARCH-OMEGA1**. Immediately he slammed his hand into the button.

* * *

Zethrid was getting worried. It had been four vargas since the Arch-Omega had gone out for his walk, and the sun was far below the horizon of the skyscrapers. Every attempt to contact him had been for naught; his VAIBO watch was sending its signal from his rooms, where he had no doubt abandoned it. She grit her teeth at the thought of Zarkon missing, and also, more than that, the fact that her man at the apartment of the Arch-Omega’s heir had found him missing as well. There was no sign of them, not even a peep, on the VAIBO system, and her Ministry’s hands were tied on doing anything about it.

The assistants toiling at the Central Command consoles were becoming very tense and worried as well, for aside from their fruitless search for their boss, one by one they were getting warnings about the machines being shut down or outright destroyed, which they also could do nothing about. It was the way of Zamyatin that only the Arch-Omega could override an order that the Arch-Omega had enacted. She and the computers could only chomp at the bit, for she sincerely desired to bring the full power of Order on the rabble, about using their override power to restart the machines or even sending in chipped alphas to replace the revolting workforce-but without the Arch-Omega’s return, she, and by extension the Order, could do nothing.

It was then, as Zethrid paced back and forth, that a panel on the Arch-Omega’s panel began to loudly buzz. Zethrid’s eyes widened as she realized it was the direct line from Voltron. She immediately turned the button, allowing the screen to come alive. The frantic eyes of a dirty, bald, one-eyed alpha met her, as did his panting and sweating. The faint sound of banging could be heard from behind him

“ _You_!? What the quiznak are you doing in there!?” She slammed a hand down onto the panel. “Alphas and betas are forbidden to enter Voltron’s control room!”

“ ** _Ah! Ma’am!_ ** ” The bald alpha leaned so far towards the screen that Zethrid could swear she could see his breath on the camera. “ ** _This is 57291-E-2 calling for aid! The machines have fallen! Voltron is in danger! I closed the access door and sent the engineers off so they aren’t killed, but I don’t know how long the door will hold! You must send help to put this worker revolt down before it’s too late!_ **”

Zethrid shut her eyes tightly at this, releasing a heavy sigh as she actually considered defying the Arch-Omega. She _could_ do it, theoretically. She _could_ send in the troops and end this before it went too far. She would lose her career at the very least, once Zarkon returned to the Alcázar. It would have been all too easy-the power was in her hands at that very tick, and the Ministry of Order was hers to command. She could save Voltron, and the city along with it.

In the end, though, she could not. She had been given her orders by the Arch-Omega to allow the alphas and betas to do whatever they would, and no matter how insane the order was, she had faith that Zarkon knew what he was doing. She could not countermand him, not now, not ever, even with the city in peril. She opened her eyes, steeling herself.

“Acknowledged and denied, 57291-E-2.” Her voice wavered only a little, before she puffed herself up and cleared her throat. “We are well aware of the situation, but the Arch-Omega has given his orders. You are to open the door for the dissenters.”

“ **What–** ” She saw the terror in the alpha’s expression spike. “ ** _No, please,_ ** **PLEASE** ** _! You can’t leave Voltron to these regressed beasts! They have been killing people left and right, and if they destroy Voltron–_** ”

“ _Enough!_ ” The longer she spoke to him, the more tempted Zethrid was to give in and send the troops in. “I told you to open the door and that is precisely what you will do! Am I clear?!”

“ ** _But this is madness!_** ” The alpha began to scream. “ ** _Voltron is–_** ”

Zethrid abruptly turned off the feed, cutting him off, and ignored the further calls that the alpha tried to send her. Instead, she stomped over to the elevator doors and, with a yell, threw a punch right into the metal. She felt her bones crack at the impact, with pain shooting up into her shoulder. She brought her hand down with a grunt, watching her hand as her fingers twitched violently and her knuckles swelled.

“…What are you all looking at!?” She barked over to Zarkon’s secretaries as she caught them staring at her; immediately they turned back to their computers as she grabbed a pip of diluted quintessence from her pocket. “Keep working! And find the Arch-Omega!”

* * *

The false Shiro was at the door to Voltron, watching as his original’s comrades banged and howled at the metal separating them from the great machine. As the doboshes passed, the alphas and betas became more rowdy, more violent, beating their weapons and demanding entry, showering insults at those who might have been inside about their cowardice, their power, their stupidity. More joined them, making the air hot with anger and humid with strife.

After ten doboshes, however, the Robeast could hear the magnetic locks shudder, then click, and the door finally started to part. The alphas and betas let out a roar of triumph at the development, and many didn’t even bother to wait for the door to completely open. Dozens of alphas dove through the widening crevice and began to run towards the behemoth, golem-like, mechanical artifact, waving their improvised weapons and fists.

There were no Omegas guarding the thing; all that was left was a single alpha, who had grabbed a wrench and was holding it threateningly towards the massive mob. The false Shiro laughed and pointed at him as he leaped through the doorway.

“YOU IDIOTS! Have you lost your quiznaking _minds_!?” He could hear the lone alpha screaming at the approaching crowd. “If you destroy Voltron, you don’t _just_ destroy the Omegas’ city!!”

If anyone near the poor man heard him, they ignored him. The majority of the alphas and betas gathering around Voltron couldn’t hear him anyways, so loud were their screams, so spiteful were their jeers. The Robeast toothily grinned.

“Stand aside, comrade alpha!” His response was punctured with an order. “You can’t stop the inevitable!”

“I…!” The crowd converged on him, and he started to fight back. “I can’t let you do this! Get away from Voltron! _STOP_!!”

The alpha swung his wrench, back and forth, beating back who he could. It was an admirable effort, but a vain one as well. For every alpha or beta he beat back, ten more would swarm him. Soon, dozens were on him, dragging him down the steps and away from Voltron. He could hear the man screaming as he was attacked, hit from all directions by punches and kicks, before being limply tossed to the side like a doll. He did not move after that, only letting out defeated groans from his bloodied mouth. 

The resistance to them was gone; the path to Voltron was clear. The false Shiro ran up to steps and leaped onto the dais, turning to the crowd. He raised his fist up, and the crowd screamed, starting to crowd up the steps behind him to hold their hands out. They were ready for the next step. They were more than willing to let him take them to the brink and beyond; like lemmings they had already put so much blind faith into him and his actions, that they were allowing him–indeed, practically gift wrapping the opportunity for him–to push them off the cliff, one by one, until they were all falling to their death.

Well–he _would_ hate to disappoint the Champion’s followers after all he’d had them do.

“Comrades–alphas and betas alike! Behold! The end is near! Voltron is ours!”

The meaning of his loaded words were lost to the roar of the crowd as he went to Voltron’s panel; right in the center was the switch that commanded all of the safety systems of the great machine, so it wouldn’t overload. His hand clasped around it; one full turn of the screw, and the monitoring would turn off. All the safeties would be gone, and Voltron would almost immediately start to overwork itself.

“And now!”

He turned the switch off, the click echoing through the air. Even as he did this, he could hear the machine sputter behind him; he could feel the electricity in the air start to jump as the massive rotors started to pick up speed until they had become little more than blurry balls. Then, with a relish, he pulled and ripped the safety switch out of its socket, throwing the still-sparking piece into the audience.

The crowds started to scream as Voltron began to pick up speed; their ecstasy at the sight of the city’s heart tearing itself apart was a sight of joy for them, and their scent was akin to what was emitted during a particularly-good orgasm. They were blind to what it truly meant, and even as the static began to spark through the air, into the floor, into people’s clothing and hair, they danced as the machine started to violently strain. The antennae of the giant began to shake violently from all of the electricity passing back and forth; the gold quintessence in the eyes of the beast began to turn violet, then white, from all of the power passing through it. Now, it was only a matter of time before Voltron collapsed, and indeed, even as the false Shiro began to sneak off to one of the emergency exits, he could see the heat and energy gauges spike up to near-fatal levels.

 _Perfect_ , he thought gleefully as he quickly took his leave, leaving the crowds to their ignorance. As he closed the door behind him, he could hear the ceiling beams creak and bend from the energy strain. He could feel the machine push itself to its limit. Even as he got further away and began to make his way to his next destination, he could feel the heart of the city die a deep, slow, painful death.

* * *

Shiro had no idea what he was going to face as he went down the lift to Underground-C. He had come upon the C-Machine, and to his horror, it was empty. There were no workers manning the film, and the smell of burning nitrate filled the air. As he ran through the gigantic building, he found the occasional body–all of them omegas, all of them bloody and lifeless.

 _Quiznak._ He felt fear stab through his heart as he grabbed his dead prosthetic, ruminating over what he had seen, and over what he knew of the Robeast’s purpose. _Am I too late!? No…NO!_

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator finally landed in the tenement, and he ran in, only to find it nearly as bare as the factory had been. There were, however, two adults sitting on the stoop of one of the buildings, and he quickly ran to them once he recognized who they were.

“Allura! Pidge!” They both brought their heads up at his approach, and quickly fell onto the step next to them, grabbing it with his flesh hands. “You’re alright! Where is everyone!”

“Killing the machines and every omega they came on, like you told them to.” Pidge was swinging Allura’s crowbar sullenly. “I wanted to go join, but then I remembered Allura was having babies–”

“I made her stay with me. Lance is dead, for all we know now, so I’ve got no one else.” Allura meanwhile narrowed her eyes with what Shiro could only figure was suspicion. “Why are you here? I thought you were leading everyone out against the omegas?”

Shiro shut his eyes. He wasn’t just too late, but now everyone believed that the Robeast was him.

“That wasn’t me.” He shook his head, even as he heard Pidge scoff incredulously. “I was captured by someone–”

“The Ministry of Order? Yeah, you told everyone you managed to escape.”

“ _No_! It–” Shiro brought his flesh hand through his hair. How could he convince them? “It wasn’t them, it was a woman, an alpha woman, and she created a double of me to fool you all!”

Both alpha and beta looked at him with dubious expressions. He couldn’t blame them; the Robeast had supposedly captured his likeness to a level of near perfection. He had to try, though, because the alternative of not convincing them was too terrible to even contemplate.

“Look at my prosthetic–it’s completely dead. Was my arm like this when I arrived earlier? Did you even see him when he was here?” The two looked over at it, then back at his face as he pleaded. “Please, I…think about it. The Arch-Omega would have never let me live if I was captured by the Ministry of Order. For quiznak’s sake, I…” He swallowed. Like with Keith, he had nothing to hide, and now he had nothing to lose. “You have to know. Yes, I was Champion and I escaped the city, but…being trapped in the Arena wasn’t the reason. I…I killed an omega decaphoebs ago – the man who had previously been in charge of the Ministry of Order, with my bare hands. Even though I did it to save another…why would the Arch-Omega, or the Ministry, or _any_ omega _ever_ let me escape after that?”

Allura let out a gasp at this, and Pidge’s eyes widened. That, it seemed, was enough to knock the sense into them that, yes, this Shiro might be telling the truth. Slowly, Allura went to stand, and Shiro immediately brought his prosthetic arm over; even if it was dead, it was strong enough for Allura to support her girth and pull herself up. She looked at him with a worried expression.

“Then…a double? Can that _really_ be possible?” Allura brought her hand to her mouth. “I admit, we didn’t see the Shiro that had called for everyone to revolt. We only know what was shouted up to us by the others who did go.”

“And they said that they were going to attack the machines? Attack the omegas?”

“Yes.” Allura took a deep breath. “Shiro. If what you say is true, then you’ve got to find a way to stop everyone before it’s too-”

**_BANG._ **

Allura’s words turned into a scream as, suddenly, at the elevators, one of the lifts suddenly fell from above with such force that it exploded, shattering into pieces and sending flame and smoke out into the tenement. Instantly, Shiro grabbed Allura and Pidge with his flesh arm, covering them as best as he could from the flying debris. The sounds didn’t stop; one by one, all of the elevators crashed down, like puppets with their strings cut. From the windows, children began to scream at the sound as well, while even beyond Underground-C the sounds of banging and exploding could be heard. Above them the harsh halogen lights flickered, struggled, and then finally died, forcing the faint emergency lights on the floor to zap on and flash, on and off.

 _No._ Shiro held Allura and Pidge as tightly as he could with his single arm, whispering reassurances to try and calm them down. He knew it wasn’t going to work, but at the very least he had to try. _Too late…I was too late…oh quiznak…!_

* * *

The city of Zamyatin was as bright and as bustling as ever as Zethrid watched from above in Central Command. It had been several doboshes since the call from Voltron, and there was still no sign that anyone had been able to find the Arch-Omega. So, she sat in his chair, rubbing her face into her hands, grunt in her throat.

She looked back up just in time to see the skyline plunge into darkness.

“What the–!?” All around her, the assistants began to shout as the lights within Central Command blinked out, leaving only the faint purple emergency lights around the windows. Zethrid leaped out of the seat. “What is going on?!”

“The machines are all down!”

“I can’t contact anyone from the outside!”

“We’ve lost VAIBO!”

“All of the computers are losing power–!”

“Voltron is offline…”

Zethrid’s mouth opened, then closed, as everything fell to chaos around her. Her heartbeat began to quicken as she realized what was happening, and how little power she truly had. She could have stopped this, but she didn’t. Her built-in loyalty to the Arch-Omega had prevented her from doing anything. Now, the city was in danger, and she could only grab at her hair, mind racing and hoping for a solution–and the return of the Arch-Omega–that was never going to come.

* * *

“We’re almost there!” The sludge was disgusting, and the flaking metal threatened to once more cut him, but Keith’s flashlight was a boon in the sewers as he and 68592-03 made their way towards Underground-C. “Just a few more doboshes!”

He could see the faint light coming closer as he approached the hole, but as soon as he grasped the side of the pipe, he heard a large plopping sound from behind him. Turning back, he saw 68592-03 writhing in the waste, grabbing her head as her eyes practically popped out of her head.

“Alpha?” He had no room to turn around, so all he could do was crawl backwards to the woman’s side. He tried to touch her, but his touch only made her writhe even more, her body vibrating and thrashing violently from pain. “Alpha! What’s wrong!?”

She opened her mouth wide, letting out a silent scream as Keith went to grab her shoulders. Then, in the next dobosh, she went limp, like a light bulb clicking off. She didn’t respond to Keith’s increasingly frantic shaking, and Keith feared she was somehow dying, that she had a stroke without warning and would slip away from life at any tick.

Then, without warning, 68592-03 thrashed back up. To the Omega’s shock, she looked at him, her eyes wide, and opened her mouth. Noise came from her throat, real noise with real timber. It was her voice–cracking and rasping from decaphoebs of disuse, yes, but she was speaking, and it was then Keith realized why she had been in such pain before.

“K…Keith…”

Her chip, somehow, had been disabled.

“ _Keith!_ ” Her hands shook as she took her hands, bringing her lips to them. Tears began forming in her eyes. “Oh, Keith…my Keith…”

Keith stared back at her, stunned. She was talking. She was free from her chip, without warning. He opened his mouth to respond, to ask why she was so happy to speak his name, to even see him. Why he was _her_ Keith.

Before he could speak, however, the pipe–and the ground beneath it–began to tremble violently, and the sound of running water began to fill the air.

“Oh no.” Keith suddenly felt the cold liquid splashing all over the back of his body and beneath his torso. He and the alpha looked at one another, eyes wide, before they started crawling as fast as their hands and knees could take them. “Come on, _hurry_!”

* * *

Voltron could not hold indefinitely. Its safeties were gone, and its energy was becoming too overwhelming. Its rotors began to spark, flames spitting out of them, before they finally failed; the quintessence processors followed soon after, exploding with heat as purple-and-white quintessence spilled onto the floor, hissing with steam.

The eyes burst white quintessence that spilled over into every metal orifice, melting everything it touched from front to back. The two antennas ruptured right after, sliced in half by electric energy. The infrastructure of the machine became little more than electricity and energy-ridden molten slag as a wave of pressure was released from the eruption, and the alphas and betas began to cheer and dance at the sight.

There was more to it, however. There was always more. Those celebrating did not realize, or think to realize, that there would be a domino effect. When Voltron fell, the other machines would follow. In every factory, every other machine, from A to Z, began to overheat, catch fire, and then explode with a wave of energy. The flames of the ruined halls would spread, until they began to consume the factories and everything–and everyone–within them.

More than those machines, though, were all the water tanks that were connected to Voltron, and to every other massive machine. Installed long ago in the Underground, Voltron’s had 2 billion liters, while the rest had a fifth of that. The destruction of the machines had the same effect on all of the water tanks–Voltron’s destruction had caused a chain reaction of energy and quintessence, and the wave of pressure and energy unleashed was powerful enough to create massive cracks in the tanks. The destruction of every other machine created similar pulses, and soon enough, the water tanks began to leak its contents to whatever was below.

And–as Mitch had tried to warn the people, as the false Shiro had known, as Honerva had planned to happen–what was right below every set of water tanks was the partitioned tenements of the workers, with all of the children left behind as they waited for their parents to come home.


	12. XI

For a dobosh, there was silence in Underground-C. All that could be heard by Shiro was Allura’s deep panting and Pidge’s whimpering within his arm. Once he felt the dust settle, he slowly unwrapped himself from them, trying to check them over in the faint, flashing lights of the emergency system.

“Are you ok?” The two slowly nodded. “All right. The emergency lights will last for a quintant. We should be all right at present.”

No sooner had those words left his mouth, however, that he heard something dripping from behind. He turned to look towards the origin of the sound, which was on the ground near one of the buildings. Though the emergency light was far dimmer than the usual halogens that were used in the Underground, there was enough fulguration from the emergency lights that Shiro could see the glistening liquid dripping from above. His eyes trained the dripping upward, until he could no longer see where the dripping began. Not that he didn’t need to see it–the only place that water could have fallen from was the city ceiling.

“Water.” Pidge let out a squeak as the dripping water slowly transformed into a steady line, wetting the concrete. Nearby, a small line of wet concrete began to form on the ground near one of the buildings, the leak spreading as the tick passed by. “It’s water! _Shiro_ …!”

Shiro’s flesh fist clenched as his breath began to quicken. Another spout began to pop up nearby, followed by another flow popping from another part of the city ceiling. That, combined with the sudden loss of electricity, could only mean something bad. Just as that crazy alpha desired–the alphas and betas had destroyed the machines, and now came the consequences of those actions. The water could only have come from the water tanks that sat above the Underground cities; billions of gallons of water was about to come down upon everyone left behind.

Immediately he went into action, crooking Allura around his flesh arm and carrying her towards the foreman tunnels. Pidge ran behind him with a shout as he gently deposited the pregnant alpha on the staircase. Allura, for her part, let out a moan as she leaned against him.

“Oh, Shiro, this cannot be happening!” Her hands curled around his shoulders, her eyes shimmering with tears, her face drawn with fear. “My home…Lance’s home…it’s going to be destroyed, isn’t it? We’re all going to die!”

“No. I’ll get you and your babies out of here alive, along with everyone else.” Shiro went over towards the foreman’s emergency panel at this, situated next to the elevators. “Pidge, get Allura out of here, now! With luck the foreman’s entrance should be accessible with the electricity down!”

Pidge stared for a moment, before reluctantly nodding, carefully leading the groaning Allura up the stairs with gentle coaxes and reassurances that the alpha could do it. Even as this was happening, Shiro used his dead prosthetic to smash the glass over the emergency panel, casting his eye frantically over the various knobs, levers, and buttons. Beneath the glass, the panel was old and rusted, having been installed centraphoebs ago and essentially left to rot. He couldn’t count that the emergency system would even still work. In the end, though, he had no choice, and he began to pound on the **GENERAL ALARM** button as hard as he could, mashing it repeatedly until, finally, the ugly buzzing noise sprung to life, echoing all through the Underground cities from A to Z.

“ ** _Attention!_** ” He turned the ancient speaker knob, yelling into it as loud as he could. “ ** _ATTENTION! ALL ALPHAS AND BETAS IN THE UNDERGROUND CITY, PLEASE EXIT THROUGH THE FOREMAN’S EXIT WAYS! IF YOU CANNOT LEAVE THAT WAY, GATHER AT UNDERGROUND-C AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! AN EMERGENCY EVACUATION IS BEING INITIATED! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL!_** ”

The effect was thankfully immediate, at least in Underground-C. Dozens of kids began running through the increasingly puddle-riddled floor of the city, and as Shiro watched with increasing worry, several of them began to run out of buildings, drenched in water, just before a deluge of water sprayed out of the tenement doorways. Many of the older kids were carrying younger kids as they converged together, splashing onward with dripping hair. They all began to run up to Shiro, shouting with frenzied fear.

“Mr. Shiro! What is happening!?”

“Mr. Shiro, there’s water everywhere!”

“Where’s my mama? I want my mama!”

“It’s all right! We’ll find your mama,” Shiro looked over the group. “Is this everyone In Underground-C!?”

The children murmured a response that seemed to imply that, yes, this was all the children-and really everyone-in that part of the Underground.

“Quickly, through the foreman’s entrance! You should see Pidge and Allura on your way!” Shiro motioned for them to keep going. “Go, go! You’ll be safe!”

Looking to his left and right as the children bolted, Shiro could see cadres of children running as fast as they could through the tunnels from Undergrounds A and B, their eyes wide and their hair and clothing soaked. However, there was little sign of anyone coming from the areas beyond C; only a few screaming, wet children ran to Shiro, whereupon he quickly sent them up to the foreman’s entrance and freedom. Even this trickle began to disappear, and Shiro’s heart plunged at the thought that, for how quickly the situation was deteriorating in water, how there was already water lapping at the soles of his feet, it was likely worse in the other sections of the city. For all he knew, those sections were already flooded, and all of those still there were–

No. _No,_ he couldn’t think like that. If he gave up, and they were alive, then it would mean he’d consign them to death for certain. Then, he really _would_ be giving in to that alpha witch’s designs, and he absolutely refused to let her win her twisted game. He began pounding the button again, shouting into the speaker. As he did, a new spout of water fell from the ceiling and onto him, soaking him with the cold water that came down from the tanks.

“ **_TTENTION! I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL! AN EMERGENCY EVACUATION IS BEING INITIATED! ALL ALPHAS AND BETAS-_** ”

“Shiro!”

“ ** _PLEASE…COME TO UNDERGROUND-C–_** ”

“ _Shiro!!_ ”

Shiro turned, and suddenly found himself staring into a pair of the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, set beneath black bangs drenched with water. The alpha couldn’t help but let out a gasp at the sight; he knew exactly who those eyes belonged to, so bright and full of hope and determination. Accompanying those eyes was a scent, one of elderberry with petrichor lurking beneath. There was no mistaking who was right in front of him, and for a tick, he forgot where he was. All thoughts of the precarious situation, the lives that would be lost with the water tanks leaking into the Underground, his Robeast double stalking the city while he destroyed it with poisoned honey–it all vanished.

“ _Keith_ …” Shiro’s flesh hand flew from the general alarm, caressing the omega’s chin. “Keith, it’s you, it’s _you_ –”

“And it’s you.” Keith’s eyes misted over as the omega’s hands grabbed Shiro’s hand. “Yes… _you’re_ the real Shiro! It’s good to have you back…!”

The real Shiro. Then Keith had seen the Robeast, yet despite that, he had not been fooled as everyone else seemed to have been. Maybe there was a reason for it. Maybe it was like the fairy tales from before the End Tick, where one’s soulmate would be confronted with a doppelgänger who attempted to fool them, only to be foiled. Maybe that was the case, but he didn’t know if he could truly dare to hope that any relationship with Keith would ever be allowed to blossom. Not while the Arch-Omega lived and existed to crush his enemies; not now, when they and Zamyatin were in such mortal danger.

“I am, and it’s good to be back.” Shiro squeezed his hand, before he turned towards Underground-C. The water was now up to their ankles, and several streams were now cascading through building entranceways. “The Robeast has done all of this, following the basic orders of the Arch-Omega.”

“What…” Keith’s eyes widened. “My _grandfather_ ordered this?!”

“…Yes…” Shiro closed his eyes. “But at the same time, no. What he ordered was under the assumption he had control of that parody of me, but in reality…it ultimately obeys someone else.”

“How can that be…” There was hurt in Keith’s eyes, a gleam that only hinted at the betrayal he must have felt at the revelation. “Shiro, I swear I knew nothing of this. Whatever was going on, whatever he was planning, whoever else is–”

“I know.” Shiro released his hand from Keith’s brushing dark, wet bangs from the omega’s face. “I know you would never be a part of something like this. I can try to explain everything I know, I _want_ to, but right now there’s no time.” At this, he turned to the increasingly flooded slum. “There are still people, _children_ , trapped in Undergrounds-D-Z; I have to get them out!”

“Wait!” Shiro went to leave, but Keith’s grip tightened. “Alone?”

“Someone has to man the general alarm, keep it going for as long as possible so everyone can evacuate.” Shiro looked over at the foreman’s tunnel that led to Underground-D; he could see the waves building up, inch by inch. “Keith…these children...these people…I can’t ask you to come with me.”

“You don’t have to ask him, Champion.”

Shiro’s head turned towards the raspy voice that responded even as Keith opened his mouth to protest. As his eyes came upon the person–a female alpha–he was struck by her eyes, and their similarity to Keith’s. Indeed, she looked uncannily similar to him, to the point where he could not help but wonder if the resemblance between this woman and the omega he had fallen head over heels for was more than just a coincidence. After all, stories of omega babies stolen from their alpha or beta mothers and slotted in with families topside was not uncommon. 

“I’ll man the alarm.” Before Shiro could ask the woman about this, though, she spoke again, her voice decrepit from obvious lack of use. Shiro could commiserate from his own experience as a chipped alpha servant. “You and Keith can get to the rest of the Underground. We all can talk of the truths we know later. Hurry!”

Shiro looked at Keith, who was looking at him, nodding. The alpha female was right, in any case–there was no time to lose. He clasped Keith’s hands with his flesh hand, to which the omega responded by readjusting his hands so Shiro was holding on to one hand as tightly as possible. With that, there was no hesitation– they were off.

Water splashed all over Shiro as he went through the doorway through the foreman’s tunnel through to Underground-D. There were no children present; Shiro calling out to them did not elicit any response. There were no signs of floating bodies or struggling swimmers; it seemed as if no one was left in the section. The same seemed to be the same for sections, E, F, and G, and Shiro could only hope that they had heard the very loud blaring announcement and evacuated. Indeed, as he looked up, he could see that the Underground-G’s foreman entrance was already forced open.

Starting in Underground-H, however, he found masses of children and the elderly running, even crawling towards him, all from H, I, J and K, all of them drenched and screaming for help. There was no sound coming from the shorted emergency system, and the water was rising fast. Immediately, Shiro and Keith jumped in and grabbed as many of the children as they could, especially those who were too short or young to get out on their own. Keith managed to force the foreman’s door open, and the children fled, crying and scared. Shiro grit his teeth as a side of one of the buildings collapsed from the weight of the water, just as the last of the children was led out.

“Come on!” He found himself being pulled further by Keith, who was sputtering water as he drove forth through six-inch-deep water. “This way, right?”

“Right–gghkhk!” Shiro’s response was interrupted by gallons of water spraying into his face as they both were slowed down by the increasing level of water. “ _Gah!_ Keith…”

As they continued on, through L and M and N, the children kept coming, crying and scared. As they got closer to sections that were near where Voltron was situated, through the O, P, Q, R and S cities, they found knee-deep, even waist-deep water, with struggling children and the old that were no longer able-bodied, even pregnant woman trying to wade their way to something resembling safety near one of the more stable-looking buildings. At first, most refused to leave where they were; the water completely collapsing a building made them change their mind quickly, and it was a struggle to get everyone through a safe exit.

 _We can do it._ Underground-T and Underground-U had a whole gaggle of children and babies that Keith and Shiro barely managed to fish out. _We have to do it. We have to save them all!_

They got no further than Underground-V. Water was pouring from the foreman’s tunnel that led to Underground-W, and Shiro felt his heart sink into the raging whirlpools in the tenement area as he entered Underground-V and saw the sight. The water was coming quick and fast, and the ceiling was riddled with holes from which water poured in. Nearly every building had collapsed from the water coming in, and the entire area looked read to cave in at any moment. There was a mass of children, the largest group Shiro had seen. They were already at the stairway to the foreman’s exit, escorted by a drenched pregnant beta and elderly female alpha, banging and screaming and pushing as the door refused to budge.

“Quiznak.” Keith slicked his hair back with a gasp as he began to run up to the stairs. “Shiro, we have to get everyone out of this section!”

Shiro opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by a loud rumbling, followed by a crash of rubble and rock. He turned just in time to see the wave coming towards him, from the direction where access to the foreman’s tunnel to Underground-U used to lay.

“ ** _NO_** -”

The next thing Shiro knew, the wave had overtaken him, and the strength of it was such that he was ripped away from solid ground like a leaf on the wind. He was completely given to the undertow of the water, and he thrashed as he tried to hold what was left of his breath. His lungs were quickly burning, and his nostrils were so filled with water that it threatened to force open his mouth. Above him, the surface of the water seemed almost impossible for him to reach with his dead prosthetic. Quite the opposite–the prosthetic weighed him down, pulling him down towards the floor and to a guaranteed watery grave.

 _No._ Shiro reached out his flesh hand to the barely present light, to no avail. _This can’t be the end…this can’t be how I die. Not right now. Not like this._

Yet as the doboshes passed, the possibility became more and more real that he would meet his end then and there, in the increasing floodwaters of Underground-V. He would be gone, unable to clear his name of the Robeast’s actions; worse than that, he would be unable to save his fellow alphas and betas from the destruction that his double had helped to bring forth. He would never be able to look the children of the Underground in the eye and truthfully say that he had made their lives better, had made their world just a little bit brighter. Instead, it would be the specter of the Robeast that would reign triumphant in the minds of the survivors, who would forever be plunged into darkness and fire. There would be no peace; death and murder done in his name, in the name of dynamics pitted against one another–that most horrific nightmare he had strived so hard to prevent–would be all anyone would know and remember of his life.

He felt his lungs ready to burst as his eyes began to glaze over, darkness threatening to overtake him. As unconsciousness started to play at the edges of his mind, he found his life surging into the forefront, flashing before his eyes. He saw his mother and father, doing their best to give him a happy life. He saw the men coming in, as they would, and pointing at him, marking his cheek with a piece of charcoal-the mark meaning he would be brought to a Lyceum. He could feel his mother’s arms envelop him with their warmth-the last time she would ever hold him–with his father reminding him that _patience yields focus_ –the last words he would ever heard from either of his parents’ lips, and a virtue he tried so, so hard to abide by. He remembered the gold-leafed halls of the Lyceum flash in front of him as he watched himself fall on the ground, then become sick and even at times bedridden as he grew older; he saw himself being taken away to the Ministry of Science, the provost dismissively waving him away as a failure. A nonentity. A weakling. Nothing.

The holes in his memory during his time under the scientists’ power were only faintly filled in as he saw himself being chipped, tortured and remade into something bigger and stronger and faster than normal men; naturally he could only turn away, thankful he didn’t remember more. The far softer memories of Adam surfaced, his arms holding him in a forbidden embrace, only for him to be torn away from life alongside his parents, his friends, and everyone else he ever knew. He watched himself be thrown into the Arena to face those particularly violent horrors alone, with nothing but his horrified thoughts trapped beneath a grinning façade to give him cold comfort. The blood and gore that trailed his every step as he sunk deeper and deeper into despair, imagining the audience being strangled and stabbed by his hands. Then, the auction that sent him to Commander Sendak, and his inability to scream or cry or even think with everything Sendak made him do–and everything done to him. Finally, that fateful night he regained his freedom and finally ended Sendak’s sadism in the brightest of blood.

The ruins beneath the city, fanning out before him, its treasures waiting for him to find them as he fell back into the Underground and even further than that. The books and items that opened his mind to the reality of the times before the End Tick were like flowers unfolding to reveal their fragrant beauty. His vow for peace, and his words finding a home with his fellow alphas and betas, many who he knew by name, became his lodestone. The children of the Underground, coming to him, playing with him, letting him teach them; they gave him real hope for the future. Then came those sentries who attacked him, brought in by the alpha witch, who kidnapped him and who then violated his mind to create her life-like monster to terrorize the city. His escape, and his arrival to the sinking Underground, leading up to his dying tick, right there beneath the waters that escaped from Voltron and the machines that had so long dictated the lives of so many–the very machines and lives that the Robeast had destroyed in Shiro’s name.

And Keith. _Keith._

He would miss Keith most of all. He’d only known Keith for a short time, but he’d seen the change in those eyes. He watched as Keith listened to his life story, had known his worst moments and didn’t judge him, barely even flinched. Shiro had let him into his life, fell for him hard, and greedily wondered if he might have occupied the same position in Keith’s. He had enjoyed his scent, held his hands. Kissed him on the lips and then wanted so much more from that. But he knew that he didn't deserve that omega who was risking everything for him, who had been hurt and worse because of him, and who now had to watch him die for the sins he had committed in his previous life, rebounded back onto the people he had tried to save.

All in all, Shiro mused as he began to slip, if an alpha’s traditional role was assumed to be that of a strong protector and provider, he was doing a pretty slipshod job. Already, darkness overtook him. Already, the darkness was descending, closer and closer to his chest–only to firmly grab his flesh arm, dragging him upwards.

It took Shiro a tick to realize he was being pulled up, and another tick for him to break the surface. He let his mouth open, taking in full and clear breaths of air, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as his body tried to recover from its newest near-death experience.

“ _SHIRO_!” Then he blinked, and he found it was Keith who was bringing him up from the depths, pulling him along and keeping him afloat with little more than a frantic dog paddle. “I’ve got you, come on, this way!”

Shiro sputtered something that he hoped sounded like a coherent response through the water as he let himself float on his side, Keith guiding him towards the foreman’s entrance. From the angle he floated, he could see the tenements sag, then collapse, as the ceiling began to rip open from all of the weight Once he saw Keith switch from swimming to walking, Shiro allowed himself to touch the concrete floor with his toes, forcing himself to try and move with his own power. He managed to stumble up to the bottom of the stairs, just in time for one of the buildings to completely cave in. The debris smashed into the water with such power that another massive wave rolled into Shiro and Keith, flooding the first half-dozen steps of the staircase.

This time, however, Keith had a solid grip on him, and Shiro pressed against him as hard as he could. As he did, and as the wave rolled over him, he could feel himself start to flush red again, thinking again of those fairy tales from the ruins. After all, here was an omega who saved his life, who didn’t even think twice about holding onto him, about keeping him safe and alive, about accepting him and his scars and his crimes.

 _Quiznak_ , that was making him want to claim Keith as his then and there, like a brute. Shiro began taking deep breaths once the wave receded, in and out, to try and stop himself from having the unexpected erection that was threatening to accompany that very primal thought. It only worked to an extent, and he could only feel mortified about the slight bulge he now had in his pants. Even knowing no one would notice, given the life-and-death situation everyone was in, it was especially embarrassing that he was feeling that way or experiencing something sexual at all.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, pulling himself up the staircase. “Forgive me, Keith–”

Keith wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead, he was flying up the stairs, pushing and pulling on the door as a myriad of frightened children did likewise. Along with them as the pregnant beta, who was soothing some of the more youthful of the group, while the pregnant beta stood nearby, looking ready to cry. As Shiro got closer, he recognized the elderly alpha.

“Ryner-!?”

“Shiro.” Ryner smiled sadly through the water that still clung to her face and clothing. “I see that you have come to help an old woman.”

“Of course.” Shiro clasped the older alpha’s shoulder with his working arm. “Ryner…is this everyone you could find?”

“Everyone from the blocks around us, young and old, before everything fell in from W and beyond.” She nodded somberly. “I thank my lucky stars I didn’t give in to the call for blood. I suspected something was amiss when they said it was you who called for the end of the omegas. I gathered everyone in my complex just as the explosions came from the hoists.”

Shiro felt a weight lift from his shoulders at this. There was hope, then, that everyone really had been evacuated from the Underground, that there were no casualties. Not everyone down there had been taken in by the Robeast; not everyone would see him as a monster when the consequences of the machine’s actions became clear. He lifted his hand up and scrubbed his cheeks.

“Thank goodness.” Shiro took a deep breath. “You were right to ignore it, Ryner. The person who did that…it will sound fantastic, I won’t lie, but it wasn’t me.”

“You can explain once we are in safety, my boy!” Ryner motioned towards the door. “Right now, we have to still get out first, yes?”

Shiro turned to see Keith at the front of the line, pushing on the door as hard as he could. His muscles were tensed and tightened beneath his glistening wet skin, and really, Shiro needed to stop staring before he started getting turned on again. Not the time to be horny–instead, he would be helpful. He thus gently pushed his way through the crowd, before coming to the door; with all the strength he had in his flesh hand, he helped Keith, his own muscles groaning from the strain.

“Mr. Shiro!” Suddenly, a half-dozen children’s hands were also grabbing onto the metal hatch. “Let us help! One, two, three…!”

All together, they pushed, and finally the door budged. Another heave, and the door slid wide enough that people could finally get through. Immediately Shiro held a hand up and began waving everyone on as Keith jumped out of the door, pushing it from the other side until it allowed as complete an access as could be gotten from the entranceway. Everyone swarmed through, and Shiro didn’t leave until every last alpha and beta had escaped. Looking over his shoulder, he could see that Keith was also staying, and he couldn’t help but flash a relieved smile, even as he heard the water continue to rise, waves of water lapping progressively up the staircase.

“Come on, alpha.” Once more Keith reached his hand out, and Shiro pulled himself through the door using it. Despite the hand shaking from the cold water that had soaked into his skin, for Shiro it was warm as a fire as he closed the distance. “We did it.”

Shiro closed his eyes as he leaned into Keith. He, too, was cold and shivering from all the water he had been exposed to. Yet as he brought his head down onto Keith’s head, burying it into his hair, the warmth he felt from holding Keith’s hand seemed to spread to the rest of his body, and he sagged, just a little. Whether it was true warmth, or a possible sign of hypothermia, he couldn’t be sure at that moment. He only hoped that the moment wouldn’t end, that he and Keith could be like this for the rest of their lives, however that might have ended up being.

Then the lights above them flickered, and Shiro came back to reality. He looked around, seeing all the children and Ryner alongside the seniors and the expecting mothers, looking at him expectantly. He cleared his throat, licking his lips before he spoke.

“The rest of the sections were cleared out, so we’ll need to meet up with everyone, somehow.” Shiro cast an eye on everyone. “The factories aren’t safe and emergency lights won’t last forever, in any case. While I do have some ideas where we might be able to go topside, if anyone’s got a suggestion, I’m up for hearing it.”

Even as he spoke, he knew their options were few and far between. Asking to stay at the homes of any omega was probably not going to work. The Ministry buildings were generally packed to the teeth with people who had no problem with imprisoning and experimenting, if not just outright killing, the whole lot of them on sight for trespassing. The Arena was out of the question entirely–just thinking about nearing Yoshiwara, or Sendak’s home, always threatened to throw that terrible veil of memories over his eyes, making him forget that he wasn't there anymore, that it was all in the past. Meanwhile, he was pretty sure everyone could fit into the theaters on the Orpheum Circuit-at least everyone could if those buildings were still standing. Indeed, he had no idea if any part of Zamyatin was left standing, now that the lights were out and the alphas and betas were doubtless rampaging through the city.

“Shiro.” Keith’s voice cut through his thoughts. “What about the Club of the Olympians? It’s more than big enough. There’s tons of places people can stay if they need to, and they always have a medical staff on duty.”

“Are you sure?” Shiro blinked, looking into Keith’s eyes before his voice lowered so as not to worry the young gathered around him. “I don’t disagree, it’s just…what if it’s not _there_ anymore?”

“The Club was one of the first places built in the city. It was designed to withstand a hundred thermal weapons trained on it at once.” Keith smiled. “If any place is still left standing, it’s going to be there. Besides…”

He turned to look over towards the next set of stairs, the ones that led into the ruined mill holding the V-Machine.

“I’m pretty sure I need to reunite Lance and Allura.”

“Lance–” Shiro didn’t know what happened to Lance, other than Allura thinking he was dead, but really, it didn’t matter. “All right. Let’s do this, let’s get everyone together. Get them to safety.”

“Ok.” Keith’s smile softened, and it was sublime, beyond the enigma of the Mona Lisa or the Laughing Cavalier. He took out the flashlight from the inside of his pants and handed it to Shiro. “Lead the way, alpha.”

Shiro couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe Keith was right. Maybe-just maybe-everything would be all right, and something could be salvaged from the situation. If all of those left behind by the working alphas and betas had truly been saved, then, at the very least, he would have done something truly good for the world by protecting and saving other lives, even if it wasn’t everyone in the city itself. Perhaps, at last, he could keep his vow, in some way.

“Ok. This way, everyone! Don’t dawdle,” Shiro began to gather everyone into a tighter fold, turning on the flashlight and motioning towards the V-Machine’s factory. “Keep together, and don’t touch anything or anyone you might come upon. We’re going to get everyone to safety!”

* * *

As Mitch finally came to, he found the world on fire. Blood had dried on his head and on the side of his face, with small splotches on the concrete floor beneath him. His hip and legs ached, as did one of his arms stuck inside a concave shell of steel, though he was certain that nothing was broken. Above him were twisted and bent ceiling beams, alongside shards of glass and metal that had once been a part of Voltron. Spouts of fire flew everywhere, and quintessence boiled in small, sizzling puddles all over the massive room. A massive howl of sound filled his ears as he fully gathered his bearings and looked outward and upward towards the source of the noise.

It was cheering. The alphas and betas who had attacked Voltron were dancing, shouting and whooping as they all held hands. The sadistic joy in their body language was all too apparent as they did jigs, swinging around dizzily by the dozens in ecstatic chains as the whirled and twirled with abandon. Several kicked at the scattered and shattered remains of the machinery, and a few even took the time out from their reverie to pull their pants and skirts down to urinate on the pieces.

For several doboshes, Mitch could only stare in horror and disbelief at the scene unfolding around him. Everyone had truly gone mad, so lost in their glee that they had no idea what crime they had just committed. That was the only explanation, and he didn’t know if anyone, much less he, could possibly stop them. Still, he was one of them, and while it was possible that he could still be killed by these idiots, he had to at least try.

He managed to get his arm out of the twisted wreckage, and then himself, with only a gash on his shoulder for his efforts. He staggered to his feet, limping as he tried to grab the person nearest to him. They shoved him away with their hip, too engrossed in celebration to stop or even look at him. The same happened with the second attempt, and the third after that. Finally, he threw his hands up and climbed up onto the remnants of the red rotor, balancing himself on a spoke. He could see the hundred celebrating and cheering from his new vantage point as he brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled.

The high-pitched, almost grating noise did get the attention of several people, and his next blow got more people to turn around and look at him. Slowly, the dancing receded like a low tide wave, and they began to congregate around the rotor. Mitch could see the suspicion and annoyance in their eyes, and they looked ready to strike at him again if he so much as blinked wrong. Nevertheless, Mitch straightened his back up and began to point at the crowd below, opening his mouth to speak.

“Alphas and betas–and _fools_ the lot of you! How dare you make merry over Voltron’s corpse!” More people ceased in their celebration, and Mitch raised his voice so all could hear him. “Do you all know what this means!? Do any of you realize what you’ve _done_!?”

“We freed ourselves from bootlicking slavery, that’s what we did!” A female alpha shouted back, and there was a chorus of agreement. “We’ve destroyed the machines, and now we’re going to destroy the Omegas!”

“Yes! Exactly, you destroyed the machines!” Mitch smacked the side of his head that wasn’t injured with his palm. “And with it everyone, not just the Omegas!”

“What are you talking about?!” This caused a murmur to ripple through the masses as another alpha looked up at him in confusion. “We’ve secured our future, and the future of our children!”

Mitch’s eyes widened as he looked at the increasingly confused crowd. They didn’t know, and that made what he was about to tell them even worse.

“ _No_!” Mitch’s hands shook as his shouting turned into outright screaming. “It…look around you! Did none of you think to bring your children with you!? The elderly!? The expecting!? No, they are still in the machine tenements! The Underground city, where you all live–that’s right beneath the tanks!! The water tanks that kept the machines cool so something like this wouldn’t happen! Billions of liters of water were held in them– _where do you think that water went_!?”

Everyone’s eyes began to widen, and they began to look at one another. The jubilation was turning fast into fear.

“Gravity doesn’t drop _upward_ , you idiots! Do I have to spell it out so blatantly for you!?” Mitch’s rage and despair boiled forward as he began to wail, grabbing at his neck. “The water has flooded the entire Underground, right beneath your feet, and they never had a chance! Everyone down there is drowned!! _YOUR CHILDREN ARE_ **_DEAD_**!!”

There was a scream as realization hit, and the group immediately fell into pandemonium and grief. People fell to the floor, pounding their hands on the concrete, while others banged their heads against the walls and the fallen metal surfaces of Voltron. Many grabbed at their hair, pulling it out and stamping their feet, weeping the entire time. Mitch himself felt tears fall from his eyes–though his own children had been long given over to the machines’ capricious natures, and he had been castrated decaphoebs before, this was bigger than him. The parents had killed their own children, without even a second thought to the consequences, and he couldn’t fathom why.

“ _Why_ did you do it?!” His voice shook as he continued to cry. “What _idiocy_ drove you to destroy the machines!? They are what have kept us alive this whole time! Now we have nothing left–without Voltron, nothing else can be run, we have no purpose, and we will all be annihilated!”

That was when a shriek of rage came from one of the female betas in the crowd.

“ ** _THE CHAMPION! HE DID IT!!_ ** _HE_ TOLD US DESTROYING THE MACHINES WOULD SAVE US!! IT WAS _HIM_ WHO CONVINCED US IT WAS THE RIGHT THING TO DO!!”

“The Champion…!?” An Arena Champion? Mitch’s eyes narrowed. “What Champion!? Where is he!?”

“HE’S _GONE_!” The beta slammed her fist down onto the ruins of the stairs. “HE LIED TO US AND SNEAKED OFF!! HE KILLED OUR CHILDREN WITH HIS HONEYED WORDS AND POISONED TONGUE!! _HE’S TO BLAME_!!”

Mitch would normally have disagreed, that they did not have to heed some random man’s intonations, but the masses began to scream and howl, their despair transforming into wrath. He couldn’t help but be infected by it, his own rage at the loss of his fellow dynamics’ children–their future, and the only way alphas and betas might have survived what might have come after this–overtaking him as well. Someone had to be taken to task for this genocide.

He clenched his fists and pointed to the accessible exits.

“Then…we find this Champion!” He bellowed, the crowd let out their approval with a roar. “Bring him to justice! I will lead you and any other who will follow, so he might die for his crimes against us!”

“ _BURN HIM! SET HIM ABLAZE LIKE HE HAD US DO WITH THE MACHINES!!_ ”

The crowds chanted as they began to make their way from the corpse of Voltron. Mitch leaped off the rotors to lead them, his fist in the air in an act of furious solidarity. 

“ _REVENGE AGAINST THE MONSTER!_ **_REVENGE!!_** ”

If it was this Champion who had caused this all to begin with, then so be it–it was he who had to be punished for the monstrous act, perpetrated in his name.

* * *

The Yoshiwara Arena was alighted with sin, gin, and massive bonfires.

The false Shiro let out a whoop as he was hoisted by a pair of drunk Omegas in the very center of the Arena for the crowd to see; the rambunctious audience who had come to take refuge in the massive dome threw up their torches, flashlights and decorative lanterns, their clothes disheveled and bottles tossed around and shattered. They all shouted and screamed with delight at his presence, welcoming him to their little improvised party. He grinned at the sight of the debauchery before him; these Omegas had given up all hope once the power died, and it was clear they felt they had nothing to lose by simply losing themselves to one last desperate orgy of hedonism.

Finally, once the crowd was sufficiently whipped up, he shouted up to everyone, knowing full well what would happen when he unleashed this other group of unwitting, inebriated sycophants onto the city.

“Come on, everybody!” He motioned wildly towards the exits. “The world is ending, and we’re gonna celebrate it because there’s no tomorrow! If we’ve gotta die, let’s go out with a bang!! _WHO’S WITH ME!?_ ”

As he expected, chaos and pandemonium prevailed in the addled minds of the Omegas, and they all hollered and screeched their approval. With a jovial laugh, the false Champion threw his hands out, and the procession streamed out of the Arena, smashing windows and breaking chairs as they did so. Once this was done, they descended onto the ecumenopolis at large, intent on riot and violence until there were no more left of them to indulge.

 _Soon_ , the false Shiro thought as his horde proceeded to torch autos and break into buildings, setting the bottom floors ablaze. _It will truly be as you said, mother_. _All shall truly break and burn...!_

* * *

Vargas had passed since Zarkon's corpse had turned cold. Honerva’s own physical wounds had healed, but she hadn’t moved from where she sat. She didn’t even notice the world beyond the Omega corpse in front of her, not until the lights in the city beyond flickered and ceased to work, plunging Zamyatin into cold darkness.

Then, and only then, did she stir, slowly standing up. She quietly staggered to the window, watching as towers of smoke began to spiral from the cityscape. She felt her heart lift, just a little, at the sight; she had done it. Her son had stopped the world, and Zarkon had fallen. A pity that Zarkon would not live to see his legacy shattered, his name cursed, and his private little fiefdom wiped off the face of the planet.

“…We…have done it.”

Murmuring, she slowly slinked out of the room, walking over to the obsidian door and throwing it open. The statue of Lotor stood before her, tall and proud, as she lifted her head up.

“My son…we’ve done it!” Her voice raised with her arms, as her eyes misted up. “You are avenged, at long last! My _beautiful_ child…”

She walked over to the base of the statue, her arms wrapping around the feet, her lips kissing the cold alabaster. Her finger came upon the small catch she had installed upon first having her son’s likeness sculpted, and she pulled on it. She felt the two Os of her son’s name on the statue pedestal slotted out, revealing them to be secret compartments, and she stepped back, taking out the a half-dozen vials of quintessence she had stored inside them for that very moment. Two were purple, two were Flux, and the others were her special brew that she had bragged of so to the Omega who now lay dead at her feet. glowing so darkly so as to be black.

“Now, I shall bring you home.” She tucked one of the purple syringes into her cloak, before taking up the black syringes, clicking them so the needles popped out of their bottoms. Without hesitation she plunged each one into the crook of her elbows, crossing her arms as she did so. “And I will make sure no one will ever separate us, ever again. My son…”

Even before the vials were half drained, she could feel the power surge through her. She let out a gasp as she felt the quintessence course through her, and as she looked down, she saw her already claw-like nails extend and harden. Her pale skin, too, changed, its color becoming darker by the tick. She let out a throaty laugh as the muscles in her arms began to tighten, then expand, before picking up one of the Flux syringes.

“Haaaaa…soon, we’ll be together…forever…at last!”


	13. XII

Zethrid was at a loss as to what to do. All around her, Zarkon’s computers were panicking over the lack of electricity. The Alcázar’s singular elevator was completely dead, as were all the Central Command’s consoles. So far as anyone knew, they had no means of regaining power, and she was left with no choice but to rip open every emergency panel the room had, hoping for a breaker, a backup, anything.

“Out of the way!” She shoved one of the assistants aside as she went to a console that was yet unbroken. “This quiznaking building has to have something in it for this situation! And–isn’t this the system that oversaw electricity levels in the city to begin with!?”

“Yes, ma’am, that _did_ oversee electricity.” The woman who responded–short, blonde, and pale –looked over at the other assistants, whose reaction Zethrid couldn’t see. “And now it’s completely dead because there isn’t any now.”

“Spare me your lip!” Zethrid turned and growled. “How is there no fail safe for this computer of all things!?”

“Why would the Arch-Omega have told me if there was one?” The blonde Omega’s tone took on a hint of bitterness. “Electricity always only came from the E-Machine, no matter the situation, so why would this building have ever _needed_ any backups?”

Zethrid’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Zarkon, the casual dismissiveness that accompanied it, and at the emotion bubbling underneath the other woman’s words. Slowly, she stood up to her full height, straightening her shoulders and looking down at the Omega, whose eyes subsequently widened as she put a beefy hand on her sidearm. As their eyes met, the blonde immediately turned away, paling.

“Oh, I…” The blonde’s voice became small, timid. “Please, I didn’t mean it like that “

“What’s your name, Omega?” No response. Zethrid’s voice sharpened. “Answer me.”

“I…” The blonde began to shake. “R-Romelle.”

“Romelle.” Zethrid repeated with only a little bit of disdain. “I’ll overlook your obvious disloyalty to our leader–who is, I may remind you, also your leader and the one who made you the computer you are now–that is, if you can gather the brain cells to find a fail safe system within this building. At the _very_ least I want a way to get out of this place so that I can do my job properly and put these revolting dirt bags down like the dogs they are!”

“But general–”

“ _What_.” Zethrid let her teeth show, and Romelle let out a frightened squeak. “Are you disobeying a direct order!?”

“It’s just…” The girl looked near tears as she responded. “The Arch-Omega told us all…we couldn’t interfere no matter what. The Ministry of Order wasn’t supposed to do anything–”

She immediately stopped, hands down in shivering fists. Zethrid scoffed at this, turning to the other assistants while forcibly turning Romelle around by the hair to face them.

“Listen to this girl, spouting _nonsense_!” One of the assistants let out a terrified chuckle. “When did I say the Ministry of Order was going to do anything? As I recall, I didn’t say a word about the Ministry. Did I?”

“Uh…” The auxiliaries slowly swallowed, and one dark-skinned one finally spoke. “No, general, you didn’t. Not that I can recall.”

“That’s right. And when I get out of here, that’s exactly what is not going to happen. I would never disobey the Arch-Omega and any indication I would is slander!” With that, Zethrid shoved the little Omega away. “Now, find that failsafe. All of you! I’m not staying in this place all night while the riffraff are running amok, got it!?”

With a cry of fear, the blonde girl nodded, falling to her hand and knees and crawling under her console. One by one, the others also returned to work, while Zethrid herself plopped back into her boss’ seat, staring out of the windows of Central Command. It was true that Zarkon had forbidden the Ministry of Order to act without his permission, along with any other governmental or corporate body that might have been capable of striking back against the alphas and betas.

Despite all that, Zethrid knew that if she truly stood by and did nothing–especially while the Arch-Omega was missing in action for so many vargas–there would be no Zamyatin left to defend from the alphas and betas. Indeed, even as she stewed for a way out of the Alcázar, she could see a glow, accompanied by rising smoke, from the skyline beyond. She was running out of time to act.

The only thing in Zethrid’s corner was what the Arch-Omega hadn’t said in his orders to her–something she could exploit as a loophole in his words. After all, while she couldn’t do anything as the head of the Ministry of Order, Zarkon hadn’t mentioned anything about being a regular private citizen, one that decided to take up arms with the intent to defend themselves. It was a shaky interpretation of edict, but she had the feeling that the Arch-Omega wasn’t coming back anytime soon to dispute such a supposition. If that was what Zethrid had to do in order to take some positive action, then that would be what she did. With luck, she would be around afterwards to deal with Zarkon’s displeasure.

So Zethrid waited, cracking her knuckles, leaning in towards the floor with her legs spread out, and hoping that the idiot eggheads scurrying around her would find a way to get her out of the Alcázar.

* * *

Keith wasn’t sure how they did it, but they did it.

Once they exited out of the factory, the group with Shiro and Keith began making their way to the other buildings that housed the machines. To Keith’s surprise, other clusters of children, accompanied by parturient females and geriatric minders, seemed to almost instinctively find their way to where the white-haired alpha was. Bit by bit, dozens, even hundreds joined their group, all silent and wet as they made their way to the massive complex that was the Club of the Olympians. In the distance, on the upper Levels of the city, they could see the smoke and flames begin licking the sides of the floating streets and the upper parts of buildings. The smell of burning metal, gas and glass wafted through the air as Keith and Shiro drew closer to their destination, clinging to one another. Above them, they could see that the Maglevs had screeched to an abrupt halt on their tracks; around them were the wreckage of cars with their passenger seats ominously vacant.

“Almost there.” Keith murmured to Shiro as they slowly made their way up a set of dead escalators up to Level 3. “Just a few more doboshes…”

As Keith had suspected, the Club of the Olympians still stood, tall and massive even as its silhouette lay stark and dark against the night sky. It was a complex worthy of the elite, with dozens of buildings surrounding the giant stadium, a great arena ten times larger than the legendary Kallimarmaro. A massive wall, 500 meters tall and 25 meters thick, separated the compound from the first of the city, alongside an ancient set of steel doors, molded with scenes of ancient, anonymous gods from an eternity past partaking in sport and leisure. As they came to the steps leading up to the great entrance, Keith turned to Shiro.

“I’ll knock.”

The alpha’s eyes widened, and his eyebrows went up a good inch, as Keith leaped up the remaining steps into the receded arch. Bringing his hand up to one of the godly toes on the mural, he twisted it upside down, and then pulled. Immediately, a succession of bangs emanated through the air, from top to bottom, until at last, the doors opened. An Omega wearing a hood leaned out, torch in hand. Their face was obscured; all Keith could see was a sharp set of sharp snaggle teeth, jutting downwards from the top of their mouth, and a soft, feminine chin. They didn’t say anything, so Keith spoke, hand scratching the back of his head.

“Uh, hi. I’m Keith. The Arch-Omega’s heir.” No response. “I, uh, I need to house a few extra people while this blackout is going on. May we be let in?”

The Omega looked at Keith (or, well, she was almost certain that she did, he didn’t see her eyes), then down at the giant crowd at the bottom of the stairs, then back at Keith, before letting out a sniff from her unseen nose. Then, slowly she leaned back inside, and before Keith could say anything else, the door slammed shut, the boom resulting from it rattling Keith’s teeth.

“Hey!” Keith threw his hands up, then back to Shiro, who had started walking up the stairs. He could see the concern on his face. “I…I’ll try again–”

That was when the door opened again, a torch illuminating the entranceway. Another Omega popped their head out, their eyes wide as they held their torch.

“My goodness, Master Keith!” It was Trayling, Keith realized, the general manager of the great complex. The older man rubbed his eyes, causing his monocle to fall off his face. “You’re alive! Oh, you must forgive Narti, she can be fickle when she is on duty–”

“That’s fine, it doesn’t matter.” Keith frowned. “I wish to give these people shelter. They have nowhere to go–the whole of the Underground’s inhospitable.”

“Well, I–er–” The older Omega sputtered as he looked and saw the mass of alphas and betas on the bottom steps. “This…this establishment is, ah, not really _built_ for their kind–”

“You’re going to turn them away?” Keith’s eyes narrowed as he motioned to them. “Trayling. Please. You didn’t see what they went through–their homes are gone. This is the only place I trust to be safe for them at this time.”

There was a long silence from the older Omega as he looked down at the crowd. He made to go back in, then leaned back out, then went to duck back in. Finally, though, his shoulder slumped, and a deep sigh came out of him as he shook his head.

“You understand this will cost me my stewardship of this grand and ancient institution, once your grandfather hears of this.” Trayling bit his lip, then looked over his shoulder, defeated. “Well, I’ve already housed a fugitive and a beta tonight–what’s another taboo tonight? All right, Narti, open the doors. We will let them in.”

“I’ll handle my grandfather when that happens.” Keith knew that it would likely be a hopeless case, but for the moment, it didn’t matter. The doors were opening wide. “All right everyone! Come on in, there’s plenty of room!”

Shiro flashed Keith a smile as he motioned for everyone to enter the Club. The kids rushed upwards, getting to the doors first as male and female Omegas dressed in Club uniforms came forward with torches to usher them all in. As Keith watched everyone file in, he spotted one person in particular.

“Hang on.” Pidge was supporting Allura’s weight, with 68592-03 trailing behind, as she walked up the stairs; immediately Keith was at her side as well. “Trayling, you said there was a fugitive and a beta you let in earlier? Was the beta injured by any chance?”

“Well, I—yes?” The majordomo flushed as he responded. “Why?”

“Is he all right?” Keith could see Allura looking at him with a confused expression out of the corner of his eye. “I think there’s someone who’d like to see him.”

“Well, he...was in Medical-5 before the blackout, ah…” Trayling motioned to a short attendant on the steps. “Moontow, would you please attend to Master Keith and his, ah, companions?”

As the attendant motioned to him with her torch, Keith turned to Shiro. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the steps since he first knocked. As Shiro noticed Keith looking at him, a tired smile began to spread on his face.

“You coming in, Shiro?” To Keith’s surprise, the other shook his head. “Shiro?”

“I just…” Shiro closed his eyes. “I need a few doboshes to myself before I go in. Go on without me, I’ll be all right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Stepping up to Keith’s side, Shiro gave his shoulder a squeeze with his flesh hand, opening his eyes. “I just…it’s been a long movement. I need some space, you know? From…everything.”

At that last word, Keith could see pain flash in Shiro’s eyes. Keith didn’t know what had happened to him, after he was captured by those robotic sentries. Whatever it was, though, he could feel it was nothing good. Keith briefly let go of Allura’s arm, causing Pidge to squawk as the alpha’s full weight suddenly went back onto her.

“Hey, warn a beta…!”

Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Then, leaning back, he gently caressed the alpha’s jaw, watching as his cheeks blossomed with red.

“I’ll be right back, ok? We can talk then.” Keith didn’t want to let him go, but he knew that he was expected to come in with Allura, and so he reluctantly released Shiro. “I promise.”

With that, Keith turned back to Allura, using his strength to support her balance as she painfully waddled into the Club. The torches all around seemed to be like a million fireflies flitting to and fro through the open space and in the buildings; despite that, the light was still dim against the black night as he proceeded with Pidge and Allura. After a few hundred paces, another attendant came trotting up with a wheelchair; Keith and Pidge gently sat Allura into it, watching as the alpha sank into it with a relieved sigh, hand on her substantially round stomach.

“I’ve never ridden in one of these…” Though 68592-03 started to move forward, it was Keith who grasped the bars as he deftly pushed the alpha along to their destination. “Oh, this is so much better than walking. But where am I going?”

“Wait for me!” Pidge huffed as she ran behind. “You guys have longer strides, come on!”

“You’ll see.” Keith brought her into the building, where nurses and doctors flew past with flashlights. The attendant motioned towards a room at the end of the hall. “Thank you…Moontow? Thank you. I’ve got it from here.”

The door slid open, and Keith could feel himself smile as, immediately, he found himself looking at a hospital bed. Sitting next to it was Hunk, who immediately jumped up to his feet.

“Keith! You’re ok!” Already, tears were trailing down his cheeks. “Oh my quiznak, we thought the worst when the lights went out! But you’re here!!”

“I am.” Keith pushed the wheelchair in. “How is he?”

“He’s all right.” Hunk sniffed. “He’s stitched up and they just changed his IV. The wound wasn’t too bad, just bloody, but I managed to convince them to let him stay here until he recovers. Not that it matters anymore–”

“’He’?” Allura started in the wheelchair, hands clasping at the handlebars. “Who are you talking about?”

At this, Hunk moved away from the bed, revealing a pale, but still breathing, Lance. Upon their eyes meeting, Lance’s face lit up, his hand reaching out to the increasingly shocked alpha, who brought her hands to her mouth.

“Lance!?” Pidge squeezed in between the two, letting out a gasp. “Holy quiznak, you’re not dead!”

“Still alive and kicking, Pidge…hey, alpha.” Keith rolled Allura over so she might grab Lance’s hand, as his voice softened. “I missed you. I’m sorry…so sorry…but I’m ok, I swear!”

Allura began to sob as she rubbed her face against Lance’s hands, kissing them, before leaning in to kiss his cheeks. With a groan, Lance leaned in to try and kiss her back, giving up with a wince, and settling for wrapping his hands around her neck as Hunk went to prop the beta up for sitting. Keith watched as he leaned against the door frame, and Allura and Lance began to cry together, their tears mingling on their skin and on the bedsheets. He couldn’t help but smile–he’d caused Lance and Allura’s problems over the past movement, and it made him feel much better that he could find a way to reunite them, especially before Allura had her babies.

They, however, were only two people, out of thousands, and if what he was told were true–he had little reason to doubt what he was told as being false–his grandfather’s law would force them apart when Allura gave birth. Looking over at Hunk, he motioned towards the door. After a dobosh of looking back and forth, Hunk’s eyes widened, and he quickly excused himself from the room, Pidge following behind.

“All right…” Slowly, Keith closed the door behind him. “I think we should give them time alone. We still have work to do.”

“Do we?” Hunk’s eyes furrowed with worry. “Are you sure going back out into the city is a good idea?”

“I don’t have much of a choice,” Keith replied, clenching his hands. “The city, and everyone in it, is in danger. If I can’t stop the violence, then even this place will become a target before long.”

“…Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Hunk sighed as he leaned against the door. “But, even so, it’s a big risk especially what that mob did to you before they attacked the machines. You don’t have Lance to get stabbed for you again!”

“Then the solution is simple.” Keith turned away from the door and started walking down the hallway. “I don’t get attacked again. Come on, Hunk. Shiro’s still outside.”

“Shiro…?” Hunk’s voice echoed down the hall. “Wait, you mean the alpha? I thought he was fake!”

“This one’s the real Shiro. I promise.” Keith’s pace quickened. “I’ll explain later. Hurry! The city doesn’t have much time!”

He heard his fellow Omega let out a groan as he ran to catch up. Soon enough he was jogging next to Keith, letting out an exasperated huff.

“Seriously, Master Keith!” The two threw the medical building’s doors open as they made their way back to the Club’s entrance. “If you’re not dead by the morning, it’ll be a miracle! Three against a million–”

“Four.” Both Omegas stopped and turned to see Pidge catching up to them, arms folded. “What, you guys thought I was going to stay with the lovebirds? Every time they get together they become absolutely insufferable after five doboshes!”

“Are you sure?” Keith rubbed his chin. “Will Allura be all right without you?”

“Pretty sure if they can stitch up Lance’s kidney, they can handle Allura’s twins.” Pidge nodded. “Anyways, It’s you, big dude, Shiro, and me.”

“And me.” Pidge’s head whirled around in time to see 68592-03 walking towards them as well. “I wish to come as well, for Keith’s sake.”

“You…” Keith flushed as the alpha tilted her head. “But you’ve already done so much for me. I couldn’t possibly ask you do to anymore, 68592-03.”

“You don’t have to ask me to do anything. I’m coming on my own initiative.” The woman slowly smiled. “Ah–and my name is Krolia.”

“Krolia…all right.”

Keith smiled back, noticing Pidge gawking at him and the alpha with an open mouth. He wasn’t entirely sure why, though maybe it had to do with the familiarity she seemed to radiate. Maybe she had been at a party his grandmother had thrown? It was possible, given how many servants she’d counted and often she threw her societal soirees, be it at the Arch-Omega’s request or on her own initiative. Still, he could figure it out later–his priority was elsewhere.

“Let’s go.” Shiro was waiting outside for them, and they had a lot of work to do. “We’ve got no time!”

* * *

Once everyone else had gone into the Club, Shiro slumped down. He fell into the wall of the entrance, sliding down until he was sitting on the steps, his eyes shut tight as he tried to calm down his thundering heart. He took slow, deep breaths, four ticks in, seven ticks out.

For the first time since he’d escaped from Sendak’s compound, the commander’s blood still fresh on his hands, he didn’t know what to do. The city was collapsing around him, thanks to the Robeast’s twisting of his beliefs and message. The children had been saved, yes, as had the elderly and the expectant, but the majority of the alphas and betas out there were the ones who had destroyed the machines. They were out for blood, and vengeance, and no amount of talking from him was likely going to make them see reason.

He rubbed his eyes as they misted up, then he rubbed his face. He needed to be strong. Not just because of his pride as an alpha, but also, for Keith’s sake. For everyone’s sake, really, but especially for Keith’s. He had been so strong, had taken charge, and hadn’t backed down in the face of the prejudice that was so innate in the city. That was the kind of omega that was needed for the future. No–that was the kind of person needed for the future, no matter what happened, or–

The sound of breaking glass and an auto’s theft alarm interrupted his thoughts. It was followed by enraged shouting, and a thousand footsteps stomping on pavement. All thoughts about what he would do next flew right out the window as he smelled the camphor from lit torches. Instantly he was on his feet, running out into the open.

A large massive crowd of dark-smocked workers stood, several hundred yards away, the light gleaming in their eyes as they locked onto Shiro. His own eyes widened at the sight, and he took a step back. Even from where he stood, he could feel the murderous intent that came from the incoming alphas and betas.

“ _ **YOU!**_ ” A bald alpha let out a roar as he pointed at Shiro. “ _YOU MONSTER!! WHERE ARE OUR CHILDREN, CHAMPION!? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH THEM!?_ ”

“They…”

Shiro opened his mouth and started to speak, but the rest of his words died on his lips as he fully took in the massive crowd. They were all looking at him with accusing eyes, and none of them seemed particularly interested in hearing him try to explain what happened. Even if he shouted that the children were alive, there was no way they would believe him. If anything, they might storm the Club and slaughter everyone, disregarding whether everyone within were on his side or even omegas. Nor would he be able to defend the Club from the mob-even if his arm were working, he would never be able to successfully defend the place against these people. Keith would most assuredly killed if they got their hands on him, and… _and_ …

He knew there was only one thing he could do to ensure the Club and everyone inside–and Keith–were safe. To guarantee that no more innocent blood would be spilled in his name, if he could help it.

He turned, just barely missing being hit in the face by a glass bottle, and ran as fast as he could, his feet pounding hard against the pavement.

“COME _BACK_ HERE!!” He heard the crowd start to give chase, screaming insults and obscenities as they threw trash to try and slow him down. “ _MONSTER!!_ ”

Shiro huffed, deftly dodging downed cars and broken glass as he ran, not caring for the sharp stings of pain that shot through his feet and legs as he did so. He had to run as long as he could, to get the people away from the Club. His own life was secondary to the goal of keeping as many people safe and alive. At the very least, if the crowd was concentrated on him, they wouldn’t go after anyone else.

So he fled into the darkness of the silent city, praying that he was doing the right thing–and that he could last long enough to find a place to hide. 

* * *

Keith and his friends had just gotten to the Club’s main entrance when they hear the raucous roar from outside.

“What the quiznak–?!” Keith turned to Narti. “Open the doors!”

The Omega tilted her head, before shrugging and walking off. No-she practically skipped off, leaving Keith, Hunk, Pidge and Krolia to their own devices.

“HEY! Come back-!” Keith huffed before turning back to the doors. “Come on, everyone, push! We have to see what’s happening!”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Pidge went to one of the massive knobs. “Count of three?”

“Ok. One, two-”

Keith let out a gasp as Hunk stepped forward, and with a complicated-looking twist of the doorknobs, began pushing one of the doors open, nearly falling on the ground as a result. Within ticks, the crack was wide enough for the group to see the streaks of flame and dark grey smokes flying by, shouting obscenities and other insults. Hundreds, if not thousands or even tens of thousands, of figures in factory attire were running, screaming obscenities and throwing trash and glass. Their eyes gleamed in the darkness, their irises reflecting their murderous intentions as their feet pounded pavement.

“ _CHILD KILLER!!_ ”

“GET THAT MONSTER!!”

“ _THAT WAY!!_ THE EVIL ONE WENT THAT WAY-”

There was no sign of Shiro, and Keith’s heart imploded with fear at the realization that he couldn’t see that tell-tale white hair.

“No-” He began running. He didn’t see if Hunk or Pidge were behind him. It didn’t matter, what with the alphas and betas about to murder an innocent man-an innocent man who was the Omega he loved, to be sure, but innocent all the same as well. He had to try and save Shiro. “Stop! _STOP!!_ ”

“Keith, _wait_!!”

Keith didn’t wait as Krolia shouted. He just kept going, as fast as he could in order to keep the back of the throng.

* * *

His dead arm was hampering him.

Shiro knew that whatever alterations were made to him by the Ministry of Science, one of the results was that he’d been made faster, along with his strength. Even with minimal feeding like that he’d received from the witch, he could summon the power to run for hours if he needed to. However, getting to his optimal speed depended on his ability to run properly, with both arms working to keep him balanced. That wasn’t the case that night, and as a result, though still fast, he could feel the alphas and betas slowly but surely catching up.

 _Come on…_ He held his dead prosthetic as he tried to will his legs to go faster, even as his heart pounding in his ears didn’t drown out the hateful jeers that tried to close in on him. _Come on…!!_

Even with a dead arm, he had one advantage that the mob didn’t-he knew his way around the surface city, its levels and its side streets. When he wasn’t beating or doing other unspeakable acts to him and the other servants, or trotted out to be ogled by the crème de la crème, Sendak would often drag him along on the beat, fitting him with an electric collar and forcing him to watch from his automobile as he beat citizens to within an inch of their lives for the slightest of crimes, the merest hints of belligerency. Any sign of his heartbeat elevating at the sight, or sweat touching the collar, would result in him getting shocked; Sendak enjoyed that kind of punishment whenever he felt Shiro had acted out of line. He still had the burn scars around his neck, tucked beneath his turtleneck, and he couldn’t help but wince at the memory. Even knowing Sendak was dead, the sweat dripping down his neck made him shudder, as if the electrical charge would come at any moment.

Still, what didn’t kill him made him a little smarter. As a result of the Commander’s tomfoolery and abuse of power, Shiro had able to memorize a great deal of the city’s street layout. He knew of the main streets, and the streets they led to; those which dead ended and those which led to other byways that few traveled even on the higher levels were known to him. Despite the night, with the leviathan shadows created by the faint moon and distant flames, his understanding of where he was and where he was going hadn’t changed. Ultimately, it was the intimate knowledge that steered him in his course.

The first set of stairs he came upon, he seized on running up them; the resulting bottle-necking and physical struggle that it would give the crowd would buy him, if not a few doboshes, then certainly the precious ticks he’d need to get to a hiding spot.

With that, he made a hard left turn, vaulting up the stairs two at a time.

“GET BACK HERE!!”

“YOU PIECE OF…!”

“YOU’RE _NOT_ GOING TO GET AWAY!!” As Shiro turned, he could see several of the younger and sprightlier betas jumping up the flight after him. “COME _BACK HERE_ , CHAMPION!!”

Shiro grunted as he continued, making another hard left into the blackness of another side street. He should discard his shoes, but there was no time to do that. Instead, he allowed the blackness to take him, and soon enough he was nearing another set of stairs, which he proceeded to go down. Then, the next set of stairs, he ran up after a hard right. His thighs were beginning to burn, and it radiated up to his buttocks. His hair was starting to stick to his forehead, and his clothing were becoming more wet by the tick, mixing water with his own sweat.

“ _MONSTER_ …YOU…!”

As he turned his head back, he could see that the mob was still behind him, even though the numbers had noticeably thinned out due to his tactics. They wouldn’t last much longer. He might just have a chance-

That was when he saw the _other_ mob coming towards him, out of the corner of his eye. Lights and lanterns flashed from a side street as flaming bottles of gas sailed around him. They landed behind him, next to him. In front of him, exploding into flames.

For a moment, Shiro’s world shrank, and all he could see was the flames. The fire, and then the hint of cedar on cigar smoke. For a tick, he wasn’t running for his life. He was in a far worse situation than that.

_Hold him down._

Sendak had always fancied himself a connoisseur on tobacco smoking, and cigars-especially on the ones that put the most hurt on his servants when they displeased him. He always knew where to press it in-the crooks of the limb, beneath the armpit, up the inner thigh. Those were places that were especially sensitive to pain. Those were places that easily scarred yet could always be covered by clothing. The thrill of knowing he could get away with it, even if someone were to uncover the injuries, the aura of invincibility he had because of his position in society as the second most powerful man in Zamyatin, always seemed to thrill Sendak. Always seemed to drive him to hurt. After all, his servants could not speak, couldn’t let out their voices to alert others of their torment, and so all their hurt was conveyed on their faces. It was something which Sendak had always loved–something that had always been part of his revenge against alphas especially, for long-ago crimes they didn’t know of and otherwise could not always understand.

 _You will know the price of my_ displeasure _, alpha. Hold still-_

And _oh_ how it had been so painful. The smell of the cigar and the burning of wood, the sensation of burning radiating from his crotch as he let out a silent scream, with Sendak’s eyes looking down at him as he writhed, looking ever more pleased with his suffering, and ever more hungry for that, that and–

 _AHNOPLEASEGETAWAYGO_ ** _AWAY_ ** _-_

That was when he hit a wall.

_NGH-?!_

Not a figurative one, either. He actually hit the wall of a building, and he whipped his head around to see the mob coming down on him-only to be crashed into by another mob, one made up of the tuxedos, the pomade, the scent of champagne, and the bright paper lanterns of the particularly high of high society, such as those who enjoyed the Yoshiwara Arena. Several hundred tipsy omega revelers were smashing into the angry rabble of his comrades. And just like that, his pursuers were blocked from chasing him further, instead locked into unexpected combat with the rowdy roisterers, who proceeded to grab at the alphas and betas, shouting at them and throwing punches.

“OUT OF OUR WAY!”

“OMEGA SCUM! DIE ALREADY!!”

“ALPHA RIFF-RAFF! IN _OUR_ CITY!!”

“GIVE THESE BETAS A GOOD BEATING!!”

“FIGHT!! _FIGHT!! **FIGHT!!**_ ”

This was his chance. If he was going to live, he had to get out now. So he did, using the fracas to his advantage. First, he slipped out of his shoes; then, finally, he slipped into the shadows and down the street towards the direction of the Alcázar, unseen and unheard by the two increasingly violent factions. Indeed, even as he fled further, he could hear shots begin to ring out.

* * *

Mitch hated being old. Had the revolution happened a dozen or so decaphoebs ago, he could have easily kept up with the front of the pack, but as it was, he was barely getting up the stairs thanks to the logjam the hated Champion had created with his sneaky tricks. He managed to push his way up to the top of the newest set of stairs, but he was still gasping for air when he finally emerged, only to find his people duking it out with a giant crowd of tuxedoed and otherwise well-dressed fops out on the town, all alongside scantily-dressed Arena dupes and buffoons.

Lanterns and glass bottles were tossed from both sides, sending blood onto the street and the buildings all around. Men and women alike were screaming with alcohol on their breath, throwing punches and lantern flames against workers who wielded improvised bludgeons towards the so-called superior dynamic. Everyone was grabbing whatever weapons they could, be it from the street to slash, from their pockets to blunt, or from around their necks to garrote their opponents. Several Omegas were even armed with guns, which they were waving around while holding ominous gleams in their eyes.

“Go! _GO!!_ ” He saw someone throw their hands up, then point towards his fellow workers as they jumped off the shoulders of one party goer. “Yes, _fight_ , get them, _get them_ -”

Mitch reacted immediately, yanking the Omega’s hand upwards as the gun went off. Some of the others who were armed began setting off their firearms, up in the air, all around, but there were screams from the workers as some staggered back, blood on their shoulders and in their sides as they fell. Mitch could feel his own blood boil at the sight. Of course the Omegas would be packing heat. Omegas could own guns, as many as they wanted; alphas and betas could own only the sight of the Omegas’ barrels being pointed towards their heads and backs. No more-he leveraged his strength and grabbed the gun from the screaming fool’s hand, before shooting him in the kneecap.

“ _STOP SHOOTING!_ ” He roared over his victim’s gurgled screams, shooting into the Omega parts crowd as they panicked and began shooting back. Their bullets missed, instead going into buildings, the ground, knocking off a beta’s hat. “OMEGA SWINE! YOU NO LONGER HAVE A HOLD ON US-WE ARE FREE TO DO AS WE PLEASE! WE WILL TEAR YOU APART LIKE PAPER IF YOU DARE CROSS US-AND WE MAY YET _STILL_ KILL YOU!!”

A roar came from his compatriots at this, and as he watched others begin to wrestle the guns out of the drunkards’ hands, stampeding the unlucky ones all the while, Mitch spotted a flash of white hair above it all. His eyes widened, and immediately he was lunging forth, reaching out for the owner. His arms and hands grasped around, not flesh, but smooth metal. A metal arm, fashioned by unknown hands, but that didn’t matter-what mattered was who that arm was attached to.

He gave a vicious yank, and out of the fracas popped the Champion himself, eyes bright and full of hatred and evil as they had been when he had first led the people to doom. He tried to pull away, but Mitch immediately put and end to that by further pulling the prosthetic towards him, before locking it behind the Champion’s back with one arm, while locking his other arm, gun still in hand, around his neck.

Immediately, the Champion went limp in his arms, and at first, he thought the monster was submitting. Then, he heard the laughter, felt the body sag, and suddenly realized the hated individual in his grasp was trying to use his weight to pull himself down, as a means of to force Mitch to support more of his bulk, and thus lose stability with his grip. Gritting his teeth, Mitch released the Champion’s neck, allowing him to flop towards the ground, before bringing the gun to the back of his neck.

“Try to escape!” Mitch hissed through his teeth. “Just _try_ , Champion! See what good it will do you!”

The response was simply more laughter from below him. Slowly, the head turned, until the Champion was looking up at him, a defiant, toothy grin even as the gun was pressed firmly into his cheek. The expression on his face seemed to Mitch wild, inhuman, even demonic as his chest heaved with even more unexpressed mirth.

“Kill me, then, won’t you?” His jeering threatened to make Mitch do just that, to pull the trigger and end his life then and there. “It doesn’t matter anyways. You cannot stop what’s been unleashed. The last city in the world breaks and burns, and it is thanks to you. You _all_ will follow me in death!”

Mitch’s hand shook violently as the Champion laughed again, and though the temptation to let a bullet rip through his face then and there was stronger than any hatred he had thus far before felt, his desire for the whole of the workers to gain vengeance–for all of them and their children and families, all lost, all dead–was far, far stronger. Instead, he drew the gun back, slapping it hard across the detestable man’s face, before pulling him up straight by his trapped arm.

Let him laugh, he decided. It would not be the Champion who would have the final say that night.

“I’VE GOT HIM!!” He screamed to the crowd, who were still working on ripping the Omegas apart. “ _I’VE GOT THE CHAMPION!!_ ”

His people erupted into cheers, immediately ceasing their rampage as he pulled the monster along into the crowd, grunting from the sheer weight and size. The man was, indeed, a physical specimen, an alpha among alphas; it was no wonder they called him Champion. A man with such unparalleled prowess in his body and such unmitigated malice in his eyes was certainly a sight to behold, and there was no doubt he’d killed men much stronger than Mitch. Indeed, the older alpha wondered if the Champion was merely biding his time before breaking free, waiting for the moment he could casually break Mitch’s arm to get out of the lock before just as nonchalantly breaking his neck. Likewise, his fellow machine workers couldn’t individually stand a stance against him, even as they jeered and threatened him with broken bottles, torches, improvised bludgeons and those newly acquired guns.

Yet the Champion didn’t escape. Indeed, he seemed to revel in the scorn heaped on him, using delay tactics to keep him in everyone’s sight for as long as possible. Dragging his feet, letting himself fall bonelessly to the ground while forcing Mitch to tumble alongside him. All the while, he laughed and sneered back, unphased by the inevitable fate that awaited him in the hands of the mob. It was unsettling, it was cruel, and it only made Mitch want to find a way to destroy the Champion even worse than the Champion had destroyed their homes and families.

The dark night, meanwhile, continued on, with the blackened shadows of the city becoming ever longer, ever darker. No light had been returned to Zamyatin, save for the flames and torches that had started to overrun various buildings alongside the oppressed alphas and betas, the damage creeping ever closer to the heart of Zamyatin. Indeed, as Mitch and his cohorts dragged the Champion towards the Alcázar, attacking all the Omegas unlucky enough to have stayed to fight, they eventually came upon twisted metal hulls of automobiles and the broken, bleeding and unmoving Omega bodies that began to litter the streets–some set aflame. It was clear that if the whole of the lower dynamics had their way, golden fire would be all that was left of the city, as well as crimson blood sprayed across the pavement.

He could see the reason for the newest carnage before him, as a group of several dozen alpha servants were marching towards another side street, their own fires in hand. Many still wore elements of the fancy clothing forced on them by their former Omega masters. Many had blood also staining said clothing, as if to ease any doubt in Mitch’s mind as to the fate of those former masters once they were freed. Likewise, there were several heads affixed to what looked like the poles of road signs, the traffic warnings ripped right off their screws and replaced with pale, twisted, unthinking expressions of final fright.

“Comrade!” One of the servants–a youthful, dark-skinned individual with two cat-like points of hair on each side–caught sight of him and turned around, raising his torch up and beckoning Mitch’s group come closer. His voice was deep and rasping, as if he were about to cough any tick. “The lights have died, and with them our eternal servitude! Now, we will hunt every Omega down until they are exterminated like the rats they are!”

“Well said, friend, well said,” Mitch couldn’t help but admire the spirit of the young man, even as he felt the pit of his stomach drop out upon closing in with the Champion dragging and struggling the whole way. “I take it this part is also your handiwork.”

“My hands have yet to finish their masterpiece.” The younger man looked pleased. “No more will I be that mess of numbers they gave me as a slave. My _name_ is Rax. Will you and the workers of the Underground join us!?”

“That we all would in a heartbeat,” Mitch growled. “But we’ve got a more important thing to attend to first.”

“More important?” The alpha–its triumphant scent didn’t lie–let out a scoff. “What could be more imperative than the destruction of the fat pigs that suckle on the teat of our sweat and blood?! Our liberation, our children’s freedom from the Underground, our true place as the dominant dynamic–that which all alphas and betas have secretly desired for since the beginning?”

The pit in Mitch’s stomach plunged beneath the ground he stood on, and several behind him let out murmurs as the rest of his own group caught up to him.

“You do not know,” he murmured. Looking down, he could see the vicious grin on the Champion’s face. “Of course-you wouldn’t yet know.”

“Know what, comrade?” Rax frowned. “What has happened?”

“The children are dead!” It was Hira who shouted it; the younger man’s eyes widened in horror. “The Underground neighborhoods, flooded! All of those within, _drowned_!”

At this, the Champion burst into bemused hysterics, and the crowds–servants and factory workers alike–exploded into rage. The servants began to surge forward, shouting and screaming in despair and outrage.

“You dare laugh–?!” The young alpha grabbed the Champion by the throat, forcing him up with such strength that Mitch nearly lost his own grip on the prisoner. “Who the quiznak are you to find our tragedy so funny!?”

“I am the Champion!” The white-haired man snickered, a cold twinkle in his eyes as he leaned in to look the other alpha in the eye. “The greatest killer to ever grace the dynamics of Zamyatin! Go on, guess who I’ve helped slain tonight!”

“You… _you_ killed the children?!” Rax’s grip began to tighten as the crowd began to shout and scream louder. “Y-you…killed my sister...my family…everyone I ever loved was down there…!”

“Oh, but I can’t take full credit–it was all with the help of my _dear_ brothers, alpha and beta alike.” The Champion flicked his head behind him to the increasingly enraged crowd. “The old, the young, _these_ people were the ones who left them behind in the Underground! They are just as guilty–but I am at least man enough to _admit_ my crime.”

“…You are no man.” Rax snarled. “A man doesn’t laugh at genocide! You are a _beast_!”

“Yes, _yes_!” The Champion hissed as his throat was constricted further. “Go on, hate me, curse me, deny your part in this debacle. You will _never_ stop what I’ve started! It is too _late_!”

“Abomination!” The younger alpha looked ready to tear the Champions head right off of his neck. “I will _kill_ you!!”

“ **ENOUGH!** ”

Mitch’s shout managed to get the crowd to back away, to become more muted–but only barely. He heaved a breath, looking at all of the torches, then all of the debris, then upwards towards the sky. The Alcázar was a mere few blocks away.

“…You want vengeance.” Mitch turned back to Rax, fixing his gaze on the younger man and pointedly ignoring the Champion for that dobosh. “You want justice. You want to destroy the Omegas. We all do. So we will do that. But just as our children drowned in the cold waters of Voltron’s water tanks…”

His nostrils flared as he nodded.

“…I vow that so too will the Champion taste the flames that will burn this city!” The Champion laughed at the declaration, but Mitch merely let his voice go louder, his commanding growl echoing through the thoroughfare. “I say we let him burn until even his ashes are destroyed! Then we will take the fire and sear away what is left of this Omega paradise, and those who allowed our calamity to happen, until nothing remains but the memory!”

He shoved the gun into his suit before thrusting his free hand out to Rax.

“Comrade! Will you join me, and the alphas and betas of the factory, in sending a message to the Arch-Omega!?”

The response was immediate. The younger alpha clapped back hard, his blood-stained hand grasping the crook of Mitch’s arm, pulling him in before raising his hand up high for all to see. As Mitch’s arm was also lifted, he clenched his hand into a fist.

“To the ends of the city and beyond! All shall be cleansed at our feet! The world will break beneath us!!” Rax turned back and shouted. “COMRADES!! WE WILL MAKE HIM _BURN_!!”

Both groups erupted into uproarious cheers at the proclamation. Torches, weapons and poles with bloodied heads all shook in solidarity, and men and women alike banged their chests with a war cry that thirsted for retribution. Mitch, for his part, nodded, his own mouth breaking out into a satisfied smile as he glanced over at the condemned in his possession.

“Send for tinder! Metal wood, rubber, the dead, whatever shall burn! The heads of our masters will aid in the kindling!” Rax motioned to his followers, before releasing Mitch’s hands and grabbing a fender. “ ** _TO THE ALCÁZAR!_** ”

It was thus decided. The Champion would burn–and with him, Zamyatin.


	14. XIII

Shiro could hear the massive crowd coming. He’d gotten himself to the Alcázar, where, to his surprise, no one was around to arrest him, not even in the square in front of it. He was planning on continuing on, hiding somewhere in the Orpheum Circuit, perhaps even fleeing the city center altogether and lying low in one of the more distant nature reserves, but suddenly, a new place of concealment seemed to open itself up to him.

That development did not fill him with anything but fear. After all, Zarkon was no fool; having a plan was generally how Shiro knew him to operate. Considering his involvement in the whole terrible ordeal the city was going through, the alpha had expected extra security lurking around the massive building, readying the troops to suppress the rebellion he had the witch’s robot stir up. At the very least, there should have been _something_ there at the Alcázar to prevent the populace from gaining vengeance on their leader for his whims. Between what the alphas and betas were now capable of, and how ruthless the upper-class omegas of Zamyatin could be when it came to their interests, it seemed utter insanity to just not have a plan in place.

Indeed, even the slightest of problems and threats to the Arch-Omega had, in the past, resulted in Sendak calling up a cadre of men gleaned from his military forces. Snipers, paratroopers, spies, and body doubles were summoned at one point, when the threat of possible assassination loomed. Barriers were erected, both concrete and wired, and security was tightened so much that even Sendak was subjected to pat downs and strip searches before the potential triggerman was finally caught trying to sneak into Zarkon’s chambers with a vial of poison. Soon after came the ringleader of the whole affair–Macidus, one of the suits who ran QuintCare, which itself ran the government’s health insurance system designed to cover all omegas–and all of his cronies; needless to say, Macidus, his family, and all other guilty associates conveniently disappeared, never to be seen again.

Security then had been such that Shiro was forced to stay outside whenever Sendak had business at the Alcázar. Yet that night, when it was needed most, there was nothing there. There were no barriers, no weapons, nothing in the surrounds to indicate any defensive preparation. There were no guards even within the lobby of the building, and Shiro pushed his way through the massive double-doors and into the pitch-black atrium without any resistance. No one leaping out of the shadows to grab him and bring him into custody. Even the receptionist was absent.

Something was clearly very wrong. The last that Shiro had seen of Zarkon, he had been fighting the witch in her lair; could she have captured him and confined him as he had been? If that was the case–no, no matter what the case was, if Zarkon was with her, or hiding in some underground bunker unknown even to Sendak, it still made no sense. This wasn’t the Arch-Omega’s way of doing things. If anything, the workers would have been dead by now; the destruction of Voltron was more than enough of a justification to send out the troops in force.

He moved in the blackness, gently keeping his hands out so he might be able to make his way through without hitting something. Soon enough, he found the receptionist desk, and he pat it down as he looked for the chair. Eventually, he felt the leather slide against his hand, and the alpha at last began to relax.

That was when the lights in the lobby rapidly and unexpectedly began to flicker on and off. Almost immediately after, the elevator dinged back to life, and Shiro’s heart began to race as he ducked, almost throwing himself under the desk and rolling up into a ball. He’d been right–someone had been in the Alcázar, and now, they were coming down. With each passing tick, the pace of the lights’ fluttering picked up in pace and violence, to the point where he was almost certain the bulbs would start shattering from the energy coursing through them. His breath began to pick up as he heard the elevator ding a second time, the doors sliding open right after.

Then, the person who stepped off began to speak.

“About quiznaking time _something_ came back online, however that happened…!” That wasn’t Zarkon. It sounded like one of Sendak’s lieutenants, though Shiro couldn’t recall her name off the top of her head. “Ugh, idiots…could have nipped this in the bud vargas ago, ghhk…!”

There were only one set of footsteps, that of the woman, before the elevator slid closed. Her shoes pounded on the carpet as she continued to grumble about the situation, breezing by the reception desk without so much as a pause in its direction, before Shiro heard the doors being thrown open. The sounds of distant shouts began to filter through from beyond the threshold, followed by the woman letting out a shout as she burst into a run.

“Wh-what are you doing!? STOP! _HALT_ –”

Another noise then echoed through the air–a strange, almost unreal laughter that seemed to overtake even the most piercing shriek. It sounded evil, full of hate and derision, along with merriment that seemed so unbecoming of the horror of the situation. What made the hysterics emanating from outside the doors even more surreal–and more terrible–was that it sounded like him.

No–Shiro’s eyes widened as realization hit like a hammer–it was _him_. That was _his_ voice, and _his_ laughter. Yet at the same time it was nothing at all like his; it was a distorted facsimile, broadcasted from a dark reflection of his physiognomy that lacked the special _something_ that made his voice unique among dynamics.

Was that beast who stole and copied his essence leading the alphas and betas again, his practically perfect mimicry winning them back to his side? Or was he being attacked, tortured, killed, his obvious remorselessness goading everyone on to further violence? Whatever was happening, the resulting sounds coming from him seemed so full of joy, so full of happiness, that it made him sick. Of _course_ he would love whatever was happening outside, no matter what happened to him. Only destruction mattered–only the total oblivion of the city, the breaking of the world, the word of the alpha woman who created him, would allow it to cease its machinations.

In another situation, in another time and place, Shiro might have found sympathy for the thing, who in the end had no freedom to do its own bidding, just as once he had no way to fight his own fate as an alpha, as a test experiment, and as a slave. Perhaps he might yet have felt something other than revulsion and despair at the knowledge of the uncanny golem’s existence, with time and perspective. But not that night. Not while he was in such mortal danger, alongside the remaining people of the city.

At the very least, he thought as he slowly, quietly crept over on his working hand and knees to peek through the open doors, at the very least Keith was safe from the carnage at present. This one comfort, as he watched the men and women he had once given hope to build up a massive metal pyre, as he saw Sendak’s underling scream and froth with rage as she was grabbed and forced down to her knees, her head brought up so she could watch, that he was with the children and the other survivors of the flood, tucked away in the Club of the Olympians. 

* * *

Keith–despite the threat of his lungs blowing out of his mouth from all the running, despite leaving Hunk and Pidge and Krolia far behind him with how fast he was trying to go–had managed to follow the crowd of alphas and betas closely, at least up to a point. Then the stairs happened; the next thing he knew, he was running to the next nearest set of escalators to try and cut the mob off at the next street’s intersection. He knew the area well, given it was inching closer to the Alcázar; he’d hoped to talk some sense into the crowd at best and give Shiro time to escape while they set on him at worst.

Instead, he’d rounded the corner to find dozens of Omegas in varying states of dress, screaming and curing as they bloodily staggered about. Some were missing teeth, some were missing hair, others were missing limbs. Many were trampled on and thus were missing their lives entirely. Some of those left alive were also babbling in incoherent pain.

“Master Keith!” Someone wailed. “We were celebrating…we were so happy…look at us, _look_!”

“My face…oh, my legs, I can’t move my legs…”

“Lost, lost! We are lost!”

“Bring him back to us…bring him back, we love him…”

There was no sign of Shiro, or those chasing him. He looked tither and hither, but there was nothing but blood on the pavement. Each passing dobosh without any indication as to the alpha’s condition only served to increase his confusion and terror.

“Where is he?!” He panted as he staggered over to the most robust survivors. He began taking them by the shoulders if they still had those, shaking them as if it would aid in clearing their traumatized minds as he stewed in his own panic. “Where is Shiro!? The Champion, from the Arena, he is an alpha! He has white hair and a metal arm! Is he alive!?”

“That…that way.” Finally, a small woman gasped on the ground, her hand shaking as it pointed down a side street. “Master Keith, they were heading to...the Alcázar…!”

Keith didn’t hesitate. Immediately he forced his legs to resume their sprint, turning left to where he knew his grandfather’s base of operations lay. He didn’t know what his grandfather would do, or was doing, or if he even cared, at that point. He wondered if he should even hate his grandfather for what had happened. It was his fault, after all. Even if the ‘Robeast’ had been under the thrall of someone else, it had been his grandfather who had ordered its use, in the end. Nothing escaped the eye of the ruler of the world; nothing important in Zamyatin happened unless he willed it so. If that meant destroying the entire city to keep his power, no matter how insane it seemed–he thought his grandfather was capable of terrible things before, but truly, what lengths _would_ his grandfather go to?

That question began to bring up the more uncomfortable line of questioning that Keith hadn’t wanted to ask himself, even as events unfolded all around him this past quintant and before: had his grandfather ever truly cared about him at all, aside from the political value his existence gave him? Had the Arch-Omega ever truly loved him as family? Had he ever loved anyone at all in his long life? Or was he really little more than a power-hungry, miserable old man who loved only himself? Oh, how it angered him. Oh, how it made him want to _hate_ –

No. He couldn’t let himself give in to hatred. Not then. If the chance to confront his grandfather on this egregious sin came up, of course he would take it. Someone had to.

_They are nothing like us._

But he wouldn’t go down the same path as Zarkon. He couldn’t become yet another Melanochaitra tyrant, with a grip stronger than steel over all he surveyed, looking down upon the cityscape from Central Command while riding the saddle of the world. He could not simply forget the people he met and saw in the factories and the Underground; he could no longer see them as anyone but people, which was what they really were as opposed to the sub-humans and statistics that so many Omegas saw them as.

_Our heart is the conciliator between the head and the hands._

If Shiro spoke the truth, and more and more Keith believed it to be the truth, the reason the World-Breaker had been ultimately used–and the resulting End Tick happened–was because of ignorance. Now, once more it was ignorance which was breaking Zamyatin, with that false prophet, that unreal Shiro, as the weapon that had destroyed the Underground and was burning the city asunder. If everything continued as it had been, if absolutely nothing was done, the city –and with it the world –would be little more than a memory within the movement.

And _then_? What would happen then?

_Their dynamics have shown it before and will continue to show that there is only one place that anyone is safe from them: beneath us, in all ways._

A new place would be built, if there were survivors of this cataclysm. A new city, a new country, a new world, all towering and tall–and like Zamyatin it would soon be bathed in ignorance, for the remnant populace would only remember the embers of that hatred, and who it was they blamed for the previous catastrophe. The memory and hatred would then pass to their descendants, just as the memories from the End Tick were to Keith’s society, and then, eventually, the fires would roar again, and there would be another disaster, another end to civilization, another legacy to pick up the pieces and learn nothing but hate, another, _another_ , **_another_** –

Keith grit his teeth and shook his head in refusal. He couldn’t give in to that cycle. He couldn’t accept the preconceptions and notions that had guided everyone before, for so long. He could not, _would_ _not_ accept that ignorance anymore. If the cycle were to end, it had to be here. If he couldn’t stop it, he would die trying.

_Shiro, I promise. I will use my heart._

Then he rounded the corner, coming upon the intersection where the Alcázar’s entrance lay, and the heart inside of him plunged.

_No–_

There was a pyre in the center of the intersection. Abandoned cars, bent steel girdles, broken glass windows, splintered wood and crumbled papers and marbles were all piled upon one another, creating a one-story behemoth of a pile. All of it was tied with ropes and affixed to a monolith in the center of the structure– which, Keith realized upon looking at it, was the cracked, defaced marble statue of Brodar himself, having somehow been toppled off of its hovering disc. Several metal poles were also stabbed into the top of the pile like torches; affixed on them were the bloodied heads of several Omega men, women and children, their expressions forever frozen and twisted. He recognized too many of those whose fate was now laid bare–indeed, the entire Arus family, the presidents of Coran-Cola Inc. and Kalternecker Co-Op, and the Level 1 mayor were among their number.

Then there was the man the alphas and betas had just finished tying up to the statue, as the smell of drying blood and dripping gasoline wafted ominously through the air.

“ _ **SHIRO!!**_ ”

He didn’t care that this outed his presence. Immediately he was running to the pyre, trying to climb up the crushed car that was nearest his position, because it was him. They had gotten him, they were going to kill him, and all thoughts of his own survival dissipated at the thought that the man he wanted as his alpha, the man he loved would be killed–

“LOOK!”

“Get the Arch-Pup! _GET HIM_!!”

He barely managed to get up onto the bumper before his arms were suddenly seized, and he was thrown back onto the ground. Before he could get back up, his arms were forced behind his back, and he was being dragged back and away.

“GOT HIM!!” He could hear someone crow behind him, their breath on his neck, as they hauled further back. “AHAHA! _THERE_ HE IS! HERE WE GO!!”

“Let me go! LET ME GO!!” Keith began struggling, screaming at the top of his lungs over the triumphant cackling of the alphas and betas who now held him. “STOP!! DON’T HURT SHIRO!! HE’S INNOCENT!!”

“Yes, yes! He is _so_ innocent!!” Someone–Keith did not know the woman’s name, but he remembered them from the meeting with Shiro–was holding a massive firebrand. Her voice was mocking as she gestured to the massive suttee arrangement. “As innocent as our children were, as our old were! As the ones who carried babies in their bellies before the machines died! Before they all washed away to nothing!! The genocide of our race–that’s something you Omegas find joy in, isn’t _that_ right!?”

“ _NO_! They’re safe!” Keith screamed. “In the Club of the Olympians! They are all alive, Shiro saved them!”

“Do you hear this!?” The woman began to laugh to the point of crying; it was not at all joyful. “He says they live! He says Champion here _saved_ them!”

Laughter began echoing through the enclave, full of hysterical despair and anguish. Yet among them one laughed with levity, though in Keith’s haste to respond he didn’t register who among the grieving could possibly find this situation humorous. He twisted and turned further to try and break free, but the grip on him was firm and strong, fueled by the peoples’ obvious detestation of his very existence.

“NO!” He cried out, more desperate. “I SWEAR THEY LIVE–”

“You would lie for this dog?!” A man–57291-E-2, the foreman of the E-Machine, Keith recognized–pointed at him, then at the pyre. “Then was it _you_ who sent him among us, or was it your grandfather?! Is there no crime you Omegas won’t stoop to committing!?”

“I didn’t–” Keith shook his head. He wasn’t getting anywhere with them, no matter how he tried. “If that’s what you think, then please, take me instead, if that’s what you want!”

“All in good time, boy! This flame will need more kindling. The fire must be fed! Bind him with the other!”

The crowd began to move to action, to grab at their clothing to get whatever cloth they could, as they pulled him back, their strength too much for him to break free from. To his shock, as the crowd parted to make way for him, there was another Omega in their custody who was bound, forced to their hands and knees. A dozen of the largest alphas were holding her down, for she, too, struggled.

“General Zethrid…!”

The officer’s eyes widened, and she let out muffled screams from behind a cloth that restrained her mouth. She began to thrash violently, before a hard smack to the head stunned her to stillness. Within the dobosh he was being brought to the ground with a hard hit to the back of his legs, his kneecaps sending shockwaves of pain through his limbs as they impacted the concrete.

As this happened, 57291-E-2 looked upwards into the sky. His eyes seemed to bore into the Alcázar, right into the top floor where Central Command lay. When he spoke again, harsh and full of his long-simmering resentment, it was clear that the message wasn’t to anyone who was present on the ground.

“ARCH-OMEGA!! YOUR REIGN HAS ENDED! YOUR POWER IS BROKEN!! YOUR HEIR IS CAPTURED!! YOUR CITY HAS FALLEN!!” He motioned to the pyre. “NOW IT SHALL BURN, ALONG WITH CHAMPION! WATCH AND DESPAIR AS WE HAVE, WHILE EVERYTHING COLLAPSES AROUND YOU!! _LIGHT IT!!_ ”

With a boisterous cacophony of warped acclaim, the alpha holding the torch threw it onto the pyre, and almost immediately the flames began to leap up.

“ _NO–!!_ ”

Keith summoned his strength to try and break free, to try to stop the fire. But he was one person, and the alphas and betas were in the many thousands. Even though many now started to break into dance, leaping and crying and twirling and swirling, there were plenty more who would keep him still as they readied him for the spit. They held him fast, even as he tried to drag himself by his knees, scraping them against the pavement. He couldn’t get out of their grip, though he pulled on his shoulders so hard he risked dislocating them. Just as his pleas had first fallen on his grandfather’s deaf ears at the very beginning, here, too, nothing he did, be it speak or fight, worked.

“ ** _SHIRO_** -!!”

All he could do was scream to the man he loved up there, who was still, his head cast down towards his feet. He knew that Shiro would have willingly died before he harmed anyone else. He knew it was possible the other might have been unconscious the entire time. But if Keith didn’t at least try to rouse him to action–to use his strength to break free of the bonds that now held him, to struggle, to say or do something, anything in his defense–he would die with too much regret to bear.

“SHIRO!! SHIRO!! _PLEASE_!! YOU ARE MY BROTHER!!” He felt tears sting his eyes as he wailed. “THE FUTURE YOU TOLD ME OF…DO YOU NOT REMEMBER!? WE ARE SUPPOSED TO WALK IN THE LIGHT _TOGETHER_!! PLEASE DON’T LET THAT FUTURE END IN THIS DARKNESS!!”

“Does he _never_ stop barking!?” Someone angrily shouted above the din. “Silence his yapping, bind his mouth shut already!”

So now, they were going to gag him. There was no time. Finally, he screamed with every last bit of passion and desperation he could muster, hoping his words reached upwards and were heard.

“ _SHIRO!! **I LOVE YOU**!!!_”

Then, finally, the condemned man’s head slowly came up. At long last, after all of Keith’s heeding, their eyes met.

“AHAHA _HA_ , KEITH!! YOU LOVE _ME_?”

Despite the flames and smoke that were creeping ever closer and licking at his legs, despite the fact his doom was beginning to envelop him, there was no light in his eyes. There was no fear, or sadness, or any semblance of the benignity Keith had always known Shiro to possess. There was, indeed, nothing there but a cold void of nothing, an internal ring of violet quintessence flaring around his pupils as the flames reflected his face in a bright, demonic halo.

Whatever else Keith might have said died instantly on his lips as dread slammed into him in full force, the visions of the past movement returning and coming to full, vivid reality.

“THEN JUST _GIVE UP_ ALREADY, AND LIFT YOURSELF UP TO ME!” The creature began to laugh hysterically as the flames began to swirl all around him, like the eye of the infernal storm that he had caused to begin with. “ _LET’S BURN TOGETHER, **MY~ O~ME~GA~**!_”

* * *

_No!_

From his hiding spot, Shiro’s eyes widened as he heard Keith’s scream above the cacophony of jeers and the anarchy. He gasped as he felt the pure emotion and anguish coming from the words that came from the omega. Keith…loved him. Keith loved him. Him, of all people, a broken, criminal alpha with a shattered past and a lost future. It had been one thing for him to feel it, to see it in the other’s eyes, to suspect it might be so while others remained unaware, even knowing he was unworthy of it. It was another for the heir to the dying city to speak of it so openly, to defy the separation of dynamics so ingrained in everyone, to affirm that it was Shiro whom Keith loved. Even as he felt his legs move, staggering towards the open doorway of the Alcázar to try and break up and stop the madness, he felt his heart soared at the revelation. It was true, it was truly true. And Shiro…he loved Keith back.

But the Shiro Keith had confessed to was little more than a mimic, a fake, a copycat. Through its obedience to the witch, the ersatz had used its artificial wiles to destroy all who followed it. Now, it was tempting Keith to join it in death, cackling like a mechanized mad monarch looking down from on high, a circle of ten pikes surrounding it and its twisted throne looming behind. The broken stop sign-cum-stakes that stuck out of the wreckage almost as high as the increasingly seared marble corpse of the city’s founder were like swords plunged into a great metal corpse beneath the statue’s feet, one already long dead yet still abused. Its orbs were laced with quintessential light, its grin bright and ivory as it beckoned.

The real Shiro would not allow it, no matter the danger to him. Immediately he was running, ticks away from giving himself to the crowd, from exposing the charade. If it could save Keith, no matter what it took, no matter how many times he had to try, he would do it in a heartbeat.

He did not get five steps before he found himself nearly running into a silhouette that suddenly barred any further movement to the pyre.

“ _Oh_ -!”

Shiro swerved, nearly stumbled and fell to avoid the new specter, who seemed to have materialized in front of him out of nowhere. Instead of hitting ground, however, he hit an arm, which shoved him back several meters with an incredible, inhuman strength. As he recovered himself, he looked to try to find a way past this new barrier, only to find himself looking up and staring right into a pair of eyes blazing with bright, golden quintessence.

“ ** _Lotor_ …**”

It was the alpha witch who had captured him and confined him over the movement–the one who had been the source of the cataclysm, whose intrigues had allowed the baptism of fire, which the panicked Shiro could see Keith still being dragged toward, to occur. Now, though, she was changed, far less human than even her creation was, and becoming further from it with every passing tick. Her height was that which could challenge Grendel, though she was the monster’s mother, with herculean muscles that rippled along with the veins beneath ultramarine-tinted skin. Her robes clung to her in tatters, and she hunched over as the leaned down, her back arched in a pangolin-like hunch as she tried to lean in. Her mouth began turning upward into a boxed, fang-filled grin beneath a set of angular, crimson buccal marks.

And her expression…oh, such grotesque, manic _joy_ it held. The sight of it would have struck other alphas down. It should have struck Shiro dead where he stood; as it was Shiro let out a choked gasp as he beheld it.

“ _ **Oh, Lotor, my Lotor!**_ ”

Her voice spoke, the rasping tones that Shiro had come to know had metamorphosed into a deep, ursine growl that echoed through the lobby. As she breathed, mallow static crackled across her body, in synchronization with the lights in the lobby suddenly and violently flickering to life.

“ _ **My son, my precious, my pearl. Come to me, come to your loving mother…!**_ ”

Shiro immediately reacted with a scream. He used his only working arm to slam both doors, right in that new abomination’s face –right, then left –before turning bursting into a run. He turned back in time to see long, twisted claws like tree branches bursting through the bonded steel doors with the force of a gale wind, ripping them right off its hinges as casually as one tore tissue paper.

He leaped into the elevator, and she made to do likewise, her movement so fast that he didn’t–couldn’t–track it. She seemed to be as Arion on the wind with her incalculable speed, her wild snow-white hair tousled and flared out like a lion’s mane as she closed the distance. However, he kept hitting the up button with increasing panic, until the elevator’s doors finally closed shut before she could put any part of her body through.

He was gasping for air, his heart was pounding wildly, and only his flesh arm still worked despite the sudden surge of power the witch possessed. He was alone, as he clung to one of the lift's varnished cedar grab bars, as the suddenly too-small box subsequently shot upwards through the floors. Nevertheless, once he recovered himself, he would activate the emergency brake, and Shiro would be safe from her.

Or so he thought.

_Bang. BANG._

The elevator started to shake, up and down like on surf. Lights flickered white and purple, and the metal on the ends of the bars and on the floor panel began to spark. In the center of hoist floor, an increasingly mountainous dent erupted upward.

**_B A N G._ **

“ _ **LOTOOOOOR…!!**_ ”

A sharp, knobby hand smashed through the metal at last, nails hooking onto the edges like crampons on ice. Shiro let out another shout, pressing himself as hard as he could against the corner of the lift as the other hand burst out of the hole, grasping a sharp and bloody knife. Immediately it began using the blade to push through steel and grind through diamond towards him, emitting deafening, chalkboard-scratching screech as it came closer and closer.

“ _ **You…naughty child…why are you running from me…!?**_ ”

If his heart beat any faster, he would faint. If he fainted, he was certain she would get him back in her clutches. But she was going to get him again anyways. She was almost to him. He froze up, began to hyperventilate; he was trapped, trapped, _trapped_ –

* * *

It was hot. Too hot. It was the conflagration his illusory grandfather had first promised in the depths of his nightmares, all through the visions of his illness. It was the exact fate that Keith had feared, though no one had believed him; now, it was an undeniable reality. The promise of death descending on the city through the flame of hate was at last fulfilled.

The fire roared above and around him, sending great cascades of smoke up into the sky. He doubted he could cry, if only for the fact his tears would be incinerated to steam upon leaving his eyes. Indeed, what would tears do in the face of this tribulation? Nothing. He could do nothing to save himself or anyone around him. He had failed the city, the people, but most of all he had failed Shiro. He didn’t know if the true Shiro was safe, or if he was dead, or if the crowd would ever realize their folly once the ashes settled and the embers died out.

Then he blinked, and for a tick, he could swear he could see the false Shiro’s countenance wreathed in flaming laurels, the teeth in his wicked smile and the rings in his eyes glowing bright as the sun. It was so much like the demon the Shiro in his dreams had turned into, that Keith had to wonder if he had never woken up from his illness. Perhaps he was still sleeping, still in bed, trapped in a place from which he would never break free, from a nightmare that he would never wake up from. Perhaps it was the least he would deserve, as the prince of the city, the scion of the Omegas as the symbol of an unjust future that he had tried to reject, but would be forced to embrace in his final doboshes nevertheless, if he were ever to emerge from the darkness of this.

Then he blinked again. And could not help but gasp at the sight that he then beheld.

_What the–!?_

Shiro was melting–no–that Shiro who was on the pyre wasn’t melting. He was _changing_ , the flames suddenly turning into wisps of mist along with his skin. His clothing began to catch and burn as normal, but all else on the man’s body–his hair, his face, his prosthesis–was transforming into bright sparkles, which seemed to scatter in the wind and make the visage of the man waver and fuzz. The silhouette overall blurred, faltered, until color began to drain from it. Dalmatian patches of black began to spot over the alpha, before they turned crystalline-clear like glass.

It was like the fire held some kind of deep magic inside of it, one that seemed to transform the Shiro that was there into its true form. It was a transfiguring that, much like the wreathing of Shiro’s face with flames, had been in Keith’s fever dream; this time, however, he was not ill, far from it. The heat and the smoke was doing what nothing else in all the city so far had accomplished–it was turning the supposed beauty into the very real and very robotic beast that it was.

“Look!” They had not yet put the gag on him, so he fostered up his energy and began to scream once more. When the alphas and betas did not respond, he cried out again. “ _LOOK!!_ ”

It wasn’t three ticks before a horrified shriek broke out from the congregated revelers; dozens, then hundreds followed, as the truth of what, not who, they were burning became apparent. The scent of mass fear began to overwhelm Keith’s senses, and he tried to blink away the soot and take deep breaths to keep himself oriented. He was certain that at this point he was beyond fear, so surreal the moment was, so complete the changeover from depraved revelry and outrage to pure fear towards this development had been for the people.

“ _That_ …is Champion!?”

“No! It’s a demon!!”

“ _KILL IT_! Oh _no_ , the ropes are burning right off that thing—”

Then the metallic skin-walker moved, and Keith’s eyes met its head once more. Parts of its face still clung to the illusion it had held onto so convincingly, and the intensity that Shiro had was still in its terrible expression, despite it lacking the warmth and kindness that had always accompanied the true Shiro. It then took a step away from the column, its partly translucent limbs flexing and glowing with ethereal strength, and whatever bindings weren’t being eaten by fire broke off with a snap.

“ _ **What is the matter, mY oMegA?**_ ” Shiro’s voice warbled, becoming stereophonic, clearly as the rest of its body surely was. Its head tilted as it began to descend with flames swirling and licking onto its frame. “ _ **WhY do yOu loOk so aFrAiD? Is this noT wHat yoU waNTed, to Be tOgetHer? Am I nOt still beauTifuL?**_ ”

The thing held its hands out as it made a fantastic leap onto the ground right in front of Keith, sending out flames and creating such an impact as to force everyone else around him to jump back. Keith started to scoot back on his knees, eyes wide, as the creature came closer, its artificial skin slowly turning a bright transparent mix of purple and blue from all of the energy it had absorbed from the bonfire, and continued to endure. Beneath it, the veins were as snow-white and volcanic-hot as a star.

“ ** _DanCe wItH mE…_** ”

Shots began to ring out, aimed at the head, and the creature began to shudder. The projectiles did nothing other than bounce off and zing past Keith like red-hot little pellets of rain. One barely missed getting him in the neck, and he found himself forced to stop moving as the bullets kept flying.

“ **I** _ **aM yOur fUtuRe…KeiTh…**_ **I** _ **aM wHaT yOU tRuLY loVe!**_ ” It did not cease its approach towards him regardless. The arm that would have been the real Shiro’s prosthetic began to draw towards his face, bringing up a nuclear heat towards Keith’s cheek. “ ** _I Am_ peRfEctiOn _…I aM_ betTeR _tHan rEaLiTY…_** ”

Keith couldn’t help but whimper as it drew ever closer, and the abomination leaned down just so, his shadow looming fully. More bullets bounced off of the false Shiro’s arms and chests, leaving larger and larger dents with each passing tick. More shouting and screaming commenced all over, but it was all white noise compared to the glowing automation above him.

“ _ **AnD wHen mY fiReS DiE, tHiS AcCUrSeD ciTy sHAll bE gOnE…BuT**_ **YoU** _ **, dEaR, DeAR KEiTH…**_ ”

Finally, the back of the false pinky and ring finger finally came into direct contact with Keith’s skin, phalanges and all, the sound of sizzling flesh filling Keith’s right ear. He howled as he was branded from beneath his eye to where his neck met his shoulder. His head exploded into indescribable pain such as he’d never experienced before in his waking hours, as the thing that had paraded as his alpha slowly dragged his pellucid hand down his face, in what was otherwise a perversely gentle, even soft gesture of affection.

The Omega did not know how long the agony lasted, or how he didn’t just pass out from the torment being inflicted on him. All he knew for what felt like an eternity was silence save for the ringing in his ears; even his cries became little more than the faintest of murmurs in comparison. Only after the thing spoke again did Keith become aware of time passing, and of the fact that the other had brought his hand away from Keith, a terrible and triumphant expression coming through even on the fleshless parts of its face.

Somehow, he could see the hands descend on him once more, out of the corner of his eyes. They were both going for his neck, he was certain of that. He did not know the strength of the monster, but he knew it was stronger than he, and likely much faster, in a normal situation. As it was, the machine man was still supercharged with such heat that a direct fight would burn Keith still further. Adding to that was the fact that Keith was in a state of shock and pain at that tick from the branding, one that only just kept him above unconsciousness at that moment. He would have been unable to avoid what was about to happen, and so he made no move to even try. All he could do was shut his eyes and allow the inevitable to happen and pray that it was at least quick.

“ _ **YOu sHAll AlWaYs bE**_ **MiNE** _ **-**_ ”

Suddenly, Keith was thrown hard to the ground, and for a moment, black spots filled his eyes. It was too much. It was all too much, and finally his eyes filled with tears from all he had so far endured. Not just in terms of the burn on his face, which screamed as the salty water hit it, but of everything in the past few vargas. The fight where Lance was injured, the children, the false pretender, the running, the floods, the flames, Shiro–it all came to him in a rush, and for a moment he couldn’t move or think of anything else.

Finally, though, he forced himself to stay focused, just as a peal of metallic thunder echoed above his head. Keith brought his head up – which was all he could do, for some new restraint now prevented him from moving anything else, not even his legs–and watched in surprise as the robot staggered back, the rings in its eyes flaring a bright lavender as its chest exploded into purple and white. Oily quintessence began pouring out of it, and what was left of the illusion of Shiro’s eyes widened in shock as his hands went to grasp at the gaping hole of slag.

“ _ **Oh…iS tHiS pAiN…**_ ”

For the first time, genuine emotion seemed to come from within the monster as it fell with a clank to its knees. The puzzle pieces of Shiro’s face contorted into an expression of agony and fear. Perhaps there was sadness, even remorse on the thing’s face as well, as it let out a strange, gurgled warble from in its artificial voice box.

“ _ **CaN iT Be…**_ ” Suddenly it looked back down at Keith, shaking, sparking hand reaching out to him. From where he was, he could see the artificial heart within its cavity beating so rapidly in an attempt to compensate for what just happened, that it looked ready to explode. “ _ **MoTHeR…oH**_ **mOThEr** _ **, yOu pRoMiSEd! In ThE eNd We’D bE–**_ ”

A second bang echoed from behind him, and this time, the chest and the heart within exploded into white. The creature let out an electronic squeak as it fell backwards, then to its side, sparking and convulsing with what was the closest thing to a death throe that such a monstrosity could have. The last of the illusion finally misted off of its body, and within a dobosh the strange mechanical nightmare was still, little more than a toy without life. The quintessence that came out of its body sizzled the edges of its chassis and melted the parts of the pavement it touched with a hiss of steam.

“Up… _up_!”

Immediately Keith felt himself being moved, and he was at last able to look down and see that a pair of arms was responsible for holding him down when the gunshots rang out. Gently he was brought up to his feet and moved away from the caustic corpse, finding himself looking into the eyes of Krolia. Krolia, for her part, simply looked at him with unusually heavy concern.

“You’re hurt.” She looked around. “If we don’t hurry it might get infected. Is there any Medquint we can use nearby…”

“For _him_!?” Someone suddenly shouted. “You would waste it on the grandson of the Arch-Omega!? _NEVER!!_ ”

The voice of ten thousand scared and once more angry alphas and betas began to fill the air, and Keith once more became aware of their massive presence. More than that, he could feel the warm metal of a gun’s barrel suddenly hovering near his forehead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bald, portly alpha who had been in his grandfather’s office in what felt like an eternity ago being the one to wield it.

“My firearm pierced the metal skin of an invincible cacodemon, who thrived on the death of our peoples’ children.” The barrel pressed closer. “What then is _your_ mortal flesh against it, huh!? If it can avenge those we’ve lost, what is _your_ life in comparison!?”

“ _STOP IT!!_ YOUR CHILDREN WERE SAVED!!”

The older man instantly turned his head towards the sound of the protest, towards the man responsible for it. Those closest to Keith began shouting and hurling insults against him, and the female alpha who had lit the still burning pyre went to grab his lapels, shouting in his face. One very burly alpha held out an improvised spear and was shaking it threateningly. Even 57291-E-2 began to point his gun towards him.

“Liar!” All too easily, 57291-E-2 shouted back once he had aimed at his next target. “You just want to spare your fellow Omega, your master! If they live, where are they!?”

Despite the threats, and despite the sweat forming on his brow from them, Hunk stood his ground and merely shouted back.

“It’s the _truth_! Keith and Shiro, the _real_ Shiro, got them out before the water overtook them!” Parts of the crowd began to murmur as the other Omega continued. “Your children, your elderly, your gravid, they’re all ensconced at the Club of the Olympians! They’re all safe!”

“Yeah!” Pidge’s voice piped in. “It’s totally true. Keith helped bust us all out of there. I happen to be one of the children they rescued. Yup. Hey there.”

The murmurs began to turn into cries; they were not of joy, but of confusion. There was still anger and resentment emanating from the crowd, and it was clear that neither alpha or beta at large could really tell what to believe regarding their children. Keith couldn’t blame any of them, at that point.

“What…” Still, slowly, reluctantly, the foreman’s gun lowered at last. “Can what you’re saying be…be _real_? That pampered Omega saved our dynamics…?”

“Yes,” This time it was Krolia who spoke. “I saw it with my own two eyes. I aided in evacuating Underground-C, but Keith and the true Shiro risked themselves to save every last one of those you left behind. All of our children are alive…”

“Comrade alpha!” The man with the improvised spear pointed at Krolia. “Do you also swear on your unshed blood and, should you have them, the lives of your own children that you speak true?!”

“… _Yes_.”

At this, she looked down at Keith with a quiet smile, and gently carded a hand through his hair in such a tender way that he couldn’t help but look up at her, confused. He didn’t know that she had such care for him, nor could he, at that dobosh, fathom when she could have developed it in the brief amount of time he had known her. Perhaps she was simply grateful for what he did?

“I swear it!” She raised her voice. “They are alive, and it is in part because of this Omega right here!”

“Someone must verify this!” The woman who was grabbing Hunk’s suit thrust a finger at him. “Take a part of us to the club, so we might see for ourselves that you aren’t feeding us false hope!”

“I will!” Hunk threw his hands up. “You’ll see it’s true, I promise! Those who wish to come need merely follow me!”

“ _Or_ me!” Pidge also raised a hand as she turned. “I’ll come and show you too! Seriously, how am I _not_ proof that what they’re saying is true? I feel kind of insulted right now…”

For a dobosh, there was a change in the air. There was hope, a decrease in apprehension. The mood wasn’t so ugly as it had been. Perhaps, once the Club was shown, the alphas and the betas would understand that everything had been a horrible misunderstanding. Perhaps that would truly be the end of the revolution. Perhaps that was all a very naïve wish, but there was little else to do in the immediate moment but to hope that would be the case.

And as for after? What would happen after the end of the night, Keith didn’t know. However, he knew two things for certain. The first was that alphas and betas couldn’t return to the Underground for the foreseeable future, if ever; it was unlikely they ever would or could. Things would have to change if the city would survive by the time morning came.

The second certainty was that, somewhere along the way, confronting his grandfather for his crime was going to be inevitable. There was no doubt in Keith’s mind that all that had happened had been with the Arch-Omega’s ultimate blessing, no matter the outcome. People were dying, dead, injured, and displaced while the alphas and betas had felt the impetus to attack others without consequence. Even now, when peace seemed possible again, death was still not far behind–there was no telling who else was killed, or what others were using the darkness to settle old scores while no one could stop them, regardless of dynamic.

There was more to it, as well–while Zethrid was present, still bound up and glaring at the alphas and betas as they found themselves suddenly lacking the thirst for violence they had only doboshes ago possessed, there was no sign of the Ministry of Order’s presence otherwise. There were no medical facilities tending to the injured and dying, and there were no ambulance sirens howling in the air. No redundancies existed in the machines that could have kept them going without workers and no backups had ever been designed in case Voltron was destroyed. The more Keith thought, the more he realized there was no indication his grandfather had ordered for even the most basic emergency necessities to be prepared for when the insurrection began. No services, no governmental intervention, no VAIBO service, nothing–it had to have been by design. It was the only explanation.

Before the previous movement, Keith had never once thought he’d be confronted with such a crisis, one that escalated to the point that overthrowing and supplanting the man who had raised him from infancy would be the best choice to help mitigate the disaster. With each passing dobosh, however, the possibility became more and more the only choice Keith could think of, in order to end the bloodshed. Talking would do nothing–the time for any constructive discussion was long past, if it had ever even been entertained by the other. After all, his grandfather had dismissed his concerns out of hand before; then, for daring to do anything about the situation he’d uncovered, Zarkon went on to outright order Keith shut up into gentile confinement.

There was no such thing as crossing the old man twice, Keith knew that much. Perhaps this was his terrible message to everyone in the city –not just to Keith, not just to Shiro, but to all the millions of people in the city. If he could not have the city to rule as he pleased, as was his Melanochaitra birthright, no one would have it. That was the most terrifying thought, even compared to all of the violence and death that had already happened, and for a tick, Keith hesitated once more on the idea of going right into the Alcázar to take that inheritance from him by force.

Then a pack of screams emanated through the air, and Keith turned to see that they were coming from the Alcázar.

“HELP! OH, _HELP US_!!”

It was all of Zarkon’s computers and secretaries, covered in burns, cuts and bruises as those who ran through the doors carried those who were injured and maimed to the point of being unable to flee. Several betas and at least one alpha pointed and laughed at their terror and pain, but for Keith, he immediately broke away from Krolia’s embrace to race up to the closest Omega. He winced both as the wind touched his cheek, and at the sight of the burns on the two he staggered up to.

“What happened?” He gestured towards the direction of the Alcázar. “Did my grandfather do this to you?!”

“Master Keith…” It was a blonde, pale-skinned female Omega, burns on her face near her ear-length bob, carrying another pale female with much longer hair. That one moaned, her arm covered with black and red. “The Alcázar, it…it is compromised!”

“ _What?!_ ”

“This…hulking _thing_ stormed Central Command and attacked us with quintessence…” The girl began to breathe heavily. “It…spoke of your father, it kept calling the alpha it was holding by your father’s name…”

Lotor. But his father was long dead. Who in Zamyatin would even make such a mistake–his grandmother? No, his grandmother could hardly be described as hulking. And an alpha–there was an alpha being kept hostage in the building, as well, if what this woman said was the truth.

No, surely it couldn’t be–but if it was, what about-

“And the Arch-Omega?” Keith’s own breathing picked up. “Where is my grandfather?!”

“Unknown…” The girl began to shake, as the other girl began curling up, whimpering in pain. “Too much…on this night, there have been so many errors…first the death of Voltron…then the darkness, now this. I cannot quantify what I saw with logic…my numbers cannot put it into words…”

There was a flash of purple light, much like the neon bars that hung from the ceiling of Central Command, out of the corner of Keith’s eyes. As he turned to look, he felt his mouth drop at the sigh of the entire Alcázar lighting up and sparking like a light bulb, before sending out a great pulse of power that went up to the top of the roof before cascading down to the ground. The few windows on the lower floors of the massive monolith began ferociously exploding from the surge, their glass scattering far enough into the air that people a hundred yards away started backing away and pointing.

“It’s Elmo’s scourge!” Someone shrieked. “Stay back or the discharge will fry you!”

Keith himself found himself grabbing the two Omegas and pulling them back, watching the light show as it zapped the tops of the nearest buildings, setting them ablaze. Wires burst into purple flame, as did lightning rods with such ferocity that the sound was akin to a massive swarm of angry bees. A mist of magma-hot quintessence also began raining down from the streaks of electricity down onto the remaining statues of Arch-Omega’s past, pocking them all with hissing burn marks until many were more ragged and coal black instead smooth grey marble.

After several doboshes, the energy died down, leaving smoke and flame in its midst. From within the Alcázar’s broken windows, Keith could see the purple lights flickering on and off as rapidly as a hummingbird’s wings flapped. He took a deep breath and nodded, gently letting go of the two Omega women.

“…Thank you for telling me.” He swallowed, looking back at the building. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go.”

“Not into the building…!?” The short-haired assistant’s eyes widened. “Master Keith, such an action can _not_ compute into anything but guaranteed suicide!”

“Is it?”

“ ** _YES_**!” From where she was still tied up, Zethrid suddenly bellowed as her gag was released from her mouth. “You are the only heir the Arch-Omega has, you don’t know what the quiznak is up on that floor right now, and you don’t have any training to even hold a gun!”

“The General is correct on all calculations.” The other Omega’s head bobbed up and down as she cradled her charge closer. “You did not experience what we did…and we know nothing of the Arch-Omega’s status, you cannot _do_ this!”

“You’re right, I didn’t.” Keith squared his shoulders. “But I’m about to. Whatever happens, whatever this all is, since my grandfather hasn’t seen fit to do it, I need to go!”

“Wait–”

“Someone untie me already, the boy’s gone bonkers again–!”

Again, Keith didn’t wait. He began charging towards the building. As he did though, someone caught his arm in a firm grip. He twisted to try to get away, only to find himself face to face with Krolia once more.

“Keith. Are you going in there?” She seemed to search his eyes for any hint of hesitation, any hope of persuading him from his course, only to deflate when she realized there was none of either. “I wish you didn’t. The amount of quintessence in there is far too high to be safe; it’s practically radioactive. And you’re already hurt from that thing attacking you.”

“I know all this.” Keith’s jaw tightened at this. “And I accept what you’re telling me. But I can’t abide by it. I have to do this.”

“…Then–if you must go,” She began to shake, “There’s something I must say before–”

She abruptly stopped talking, before shaking her head after a dobosh. When she focused her eyes back on him, and slowly released her grip on him, her eyes were misted over.

“No…I’ll tell you if you come back down.” She bent her head down, seemingly defeated. “No- _when_ you come back down. You will return, I’m sure of it.”

Something about seeing her in this way–especially in regard to him, still a virtual stranger to the alpha– made Keith hesitate on continuing on his way. Then, without a second thought he lifted her chin, giving her a quick, respectful peck on the cheek. He turned away before he could see how she reacted to his gesture.

“You have my word. I’ll be down when this is done.” A deep breath. “This must end tonight, or not at all!”

And with that, Keith had broken into a run once more, this time to the Alcázar–and to whatever terrible fate was to await him at the zenith of this night of horrors.


	15. XIV

Her son was being unusually finicky that night.

Once she had secured him, Lotor had tried to fight her. He attempted punching her with one arm; he’d tried kicking her, scratching her face, even tried biting her hand. Honerva withstood those violent fancies quite easily; the quintessence that she had given herself was such that he barely hurt her. Her newly discovered power of electromagnetic quintessence discharge was useful as well against the furtive attempts of her Omega’s bootlickers as they tried to attack her once she stepped out of the ravaged elevator.

She was starting to get tired of his antics, though, just a little. She would have expected her most beloved child, the reborn savior of the world, to put on a better example for her and those who would come to love him as she did. Instead, he seemed to become more desperate in his struggling after she summarily dispatched the idiot Omegas, forcing them to retreat out of Central Command.

“ _ **Why are you being so obstinate tonight? You were not like this before the transference.**_ ”

She continued to murmur theoretical questions about the Robeast process–questions of quintessence output to the brain matter causing damage, questions on why he was using his left arm when Lotor had always been predominantly right-handed–as she proceeded to sling him over her shoulder like a petulant child, bending down her head to avoid the ceiling. He changed tact, began chopping his hand onto her spine hard and fast as he could. She responded by curling her knives-length nails into his shoulder, stabbing him deep enough to draw fluid. A warning to her wayward son, and he took the hint, immediately stopping the assault.

“ _ **Do you not understand I do all this for you? Has the Champion’s personality started to subsume your base programming?**_ ”

With that, she dropped him like a sack into the chair that Zarkon himself had always prided as being his. The throne of the world, where all around, the consoles and computers that controlled Zamyatin were as silent and dead as the Arch-Omega now was. Now, it belonged to Lotor, as was always meant to happen. Even as he flopped in the chair like a fish, face scrunched up in some pain.

“ _ **Look, all around you.**_ ” With a massive tree-trunk of a limb, she motioned to the windows, revealing the dark, smoke-filled skyline of the city below. “ ** _Isn’t it beautiful? My Omega would have denied you your birthright, even though you were his first-born and only son, his true heir, returned from the veil of oblivion. He saw you as a monster, but he was as he always was–a thrice-quiznaking fool._** ”

“Nngh.” Beneath her, Lotor groaned, trying to slide down out of the chair. “I’m not–”

“ _ **No–you are not a monster, you are correct.**_ ” Honerva chuckled. “ _ **You are an angel, you are perfection. Ah, you were always so clever when your father was so**_ **stupid** _ **. So compassionate where he lacked it. You had dreams where he had no imagination.**_ ”

She stroked his chin gently, even though he shuddered and cowered under her touch. He again tried to escape. Her free hand launched out and held him down firmly in the chair, no matter how he struggled. She let out a sigh at this; it was taking a great deal of her self-discipline to not just let the quintessence she had pumped into herself overtake her fully. She did not need her son to be so stubborn at that delicate moment on top of it.

Perhaps, she conceded, she should have further tested the more concentrated forms before injecting herself. Perhaps she’d lapsed, a little, in her judgment. It was too late to change course–she could feel her body try to respond to the energy in the only way it could, through further, unknown transformations. She would not let that happen. Just as Lotor always belonged to her and not Zarkon, she would have mastery over whatever power that she put into her body; she was certain she was and would stay in control of those forces of nature that was trying to keep wreaking havoc on her both inside and out.

“ _ **Do you remember the tour you took of the lumber forest reserves, the ones south of the city? You had mentioned you’d wanted to build a house on the edge of the Koltor Cliffs, where the juniberries grow in the summer, intertwining their roots with the basjoos vines.**_ ” Honerva couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “ _ **Don’t you remember, how you thought you might leave Zamyatin behind and live out in that place for the rest of your life? How you tired of this place, how you wished it and all of its problems were little more than a memory, even though you knew you would have to do your duty to rule it, when the time came?**_ ”

She pushed away, practically floating as she gestured to the windows once more.

“ _ **When you were growing up, you desired to rule the world; that became my desire as well. On your deathbed you cursed the Arch-Omega, ten thousand times over, once for every quintant of your existence? Yes, I too cursed him! How we both longed for vengeance for his arrogance, for the end of the charade perfection he had created for this city and all those other inferior Omegas. Now I’ve given it to you at last. Never again will he torment you!**_ ”

Silence, as she spread her hands apart. A spasm went through them as she took a deep breath.

“ ** _My son, don’t you see? The city is tearing itself apart! All for you, always for you!_** ” Electric quintessence began to crackle through her body, her body pulsing from the wonderful energy she injected herself with. “ _ **Let it keep doing so! Let them all rip each other apart as they wallow in the dregs of their ignorance! You and I shall outlive them all!**_ ”

She slammed her hand down onto one of the assistants’ computing consoles, bending it in half. A great shock of power coursed from her, causing the console to burst into sparks and smoke even as the room lit up with the light of her power. All the while, she let out a triumphant laugh, allowing her new ability to destroy the instruments of the city’s metaphorical and literal brain, one by one.

As she at last turned back to look at her son, she saw he was trying to leave, having pulled himself out of the chair and towards the only exit.

“ _ **No…my son, stay with me!**_ ” She blocked him off from the elevator in a flash, holding her arms out to him pleadingly. “ _ **You always spoke of me as your favorite, don’t you recall? Why do you run, why do you look at me with such fear? Has the Champion’s mindset taken over yours? If that is the case…I can fix it. I can**_ **fix** _ **you! My equipment is still functional, it never ran on the city’s power grid. And then, then you would remember and see all the wondrous things I’ve done for you. My life’s work was all for**_ **you** _ **, don’t you understand? Yes–I still have a great deal of concentrated quintessence at the lab, enough for you and I to do as we wish with it! The powers I have now, you can have them even in your current body, and together we can live however long as we wish to without ever having to worry about your father!**_ ”

To demonstrate, she pulled out the syringe of quintessence she had left, showing it to him. His eyes widened, not with joy, but with trepidation. She shook her head at his response–just like when he was frightened of the dark as a child, easily corrected!–her smile only growing wider.

“ _ **Don’t be so frightened, my son!**_ ” With excited hands she managed to fumble with the vial and place it on top of the syringe, one with the diamond-hard needle created just for him. How small it seemed now, yet at the same time, how precious it still was. “ _ **Look, it is a taste of the power we shall have, to finally free of this accursed city! For us, even forever is not impossible! Let me show you–**_ ”

She was interrupted by the flickering, dying _ding_ of the elevator as the lights above it pulsated faster than a strobe. She let out a hiss as she swung around to face the doors of the lift. Immediately, the syringe was replaced inside her pocket as she began to stalk towards the doors.

“ _ **Who would**_ **dare** _ **…**_ ” She felt her teeth jut out of her gums in her rage, becoming sharp as swords as she willed herself to be ready for destroying whatever might have been coming up. “ _ **To interrupt my conversation with**_ **my son** _ **…**_ ”

“No, wait, don’t hurt them–”

She didn’t listen. There were many things she would indulge her son on, but not this. She thrust her hands out, lightning playing on the ends of her fingertips before they burst forward as the lift finally opened.

* * *

When Keith saw the state of the elevator, he felt his heart sink.

Half of the elevator’s floor was simply _gone_ , as if ripped out of the ground and eaten up by a great maw, with the top of the charred remnants jutting up like a twisted, inverted crown. There was a knife in the corner, covered in blood, with its handles scorched with burn marks. The doors were dented, though not so dented that they didn’t still close behind him as he carefully moved himself to the edges of the box’s corner.

As he leaned down to retrieve the edge for examination, he saw the darkness beneath and beyond the hole. He swallowed at the steep drop that was beneath even the ground floor while he pressed the button for service to the top floors; as the elevator sputtered back to life with violet flashes of light, the box lurched upwards, nearly throwing Keith forward into the darkness that became ever steeper and deeper. It seemed to reach even beyond the depths of the Underground as the lift brought him closer to Central Command.

He forced himself to turn away from the sight, instead examining the blade as he made to ( _carefully_ ) sit down in the furthest corner of the mangled square. His maimed cheek seemed to throb at the sight of the blood and the burns on the weapon while he examined it–whose blood was it? Was it Shiro’s? Was Shiro the alpha that was being held hostage? Keith hoped fervently it wasn’t, but his luck had been anything but stellar these past vargas. Nor did he know what he was going to face when the doors finally opened.

The time going up to the top of the elevator seemed an eternity in comparison to the few previous times Keith had come to Central Command. It was time he had to think further on the events of that evening. What did his grandfather think, wherever he was, looking over the ruined city, viewing the sum of his decisions? Would he even care, once Keith confronted him? Or would his grandfather merely give him to whatever caused the destruction in the elevator?

“This is all wrong,” Keith couldn’t help but murmur to himself. “I don’t want to fight my grandfather…but if I have to…him, and whatever this new monster is…”

“ _How presumptuous of you, my grandson, to think you will_ win _._ ”

Keith’s eyes darted upwards, and his head swung around to see his grandfather standing behind him, above him, tall and haughty as always. He looked so perfectly put together that nothing was out of place-no strand of hair left unslicked, no wrinkle in his pinstripe suit, no dullness in the leather cape toes. His eyes looked down at Keith, his brows furrowed with disdain and disappointment. Keith couldn’t help but burrow inward, arms wrapped around his knees; the Arch-Omega was always intimidating, never more so than in that precise tick.

“ _You…you are weak. Soft. Did I not warn you that your artless, dewy-eyed worship of those foolish notions you’ve engendered were not worth expending effort on?_ ” He gestured towards the younger, eyes pinched down to slits. “ _Now look. You must see how violent and uncontrollable these beasts are._ ”

“Because you goaded them into it.” Keith curled further inward, his body shaking. “They would never have destroyed Voltron if you hadn’t whipped them up to such a frenzy.”

“ _It would have been inevitable that I would have needed to do something about them._ ” His voice hardened. “ _The alpha you’ve put faith in had already made them restless. The creature’s intervention merely revealed just how willingly depraved they could be._ ”

“You _made_ it that way.” Keith’s fists began to shake. “You made a self-fulfilling prophecy for your own stupid ends!”

“ _It was a prophecy that_ needed _to be fulfilled, my grandson._ ” The other folded his arms, the disappointment depending in their expression. “ _You saw how they acted. Look at what they did to what they thought was Shiro. They burned him. They wanted to burn_ you _, too._ ”

Keith’s whole body began to vibrate from the admonishment. His cheek burned anew at the memory of what he’d been put through mere doboashes ago, with those hateful eyes winged with quintessence looking down on him. Looking back up at his grandfather, he saw the same rings in his eyes, flashing as bright as bulbs; they were filled such ruthlessness and hatred, that Keith couldn’t help but wonder if he would not be blasted away by the terrible look on his grandfather’s face.

“ _I told you. All would burn, all would die. All was as_ exactly _as I predicted. You simply chose to ignore me._ ” The next thing Keith knew, Zarkon was pointing his finger right at him. His expression seemed almost demonic as he let out a displeased hiss from his snarling mouth. “ _So...now you must know. This is_ your _fault._ All _of it! If you’d never pursued that alpha…if you’d just done what a proper Omega would have done in your position…_ ”

Keith could feel his hands unclench from around his legs. Slowly, he stood as tall he could, dropping his newly-acquired weapon onto the ground in the process. He felt the tears forming in his eyes as he slowly looked up, watching the flames surround his grandfather. All around him, the elevator walls began to sag from the heat.

“ _None of this would have happened—_ ”

“Enough.”

His single word was quiet, almost inaudible. Yet his grandfather heard him; of course he did. The elder one’s eyes widened, and the flames seemed to die down.

“ _What did you say to me?_ ” His anger gave way to shock. “ _You dare speak in such way to me? Your blood, your leader, your_ master _!_ ”

“I said _enough_!” This time, it was Keith’s turn to point angrily at the other, feeling his rage start to get the better of him. “How dare you blame _me_ for _your_ malfeasance! I wasn’t the one who ignored the deaths of the alphas in the E-Machine! I wasn’t the one who allowed children to be stolen from their parents! I wasn’t the one who sent that mimicking monster out and had Shiro confined all the while! I wasn’t the one who allowed the deaths in the Arena, or the destruction of Voltron, or for the Underground to be flooded, or for those heads affixed to those metal poles!”

“ _Keith, I suggest you stand down—_ ”

“ _No_! All you’ve done is tell me I’m _wrong_ about everything!” Keith took a step closer, not caring about the hole in the middle or the melting metal around him; instead he thrust his finger closer to the old man’s face. “That I’m just too young to understand how the world is supposed to work, that I’m soft and that I’m ignorant…you say that while you do the most terrible things to your city! To your people! All of them, every dynamic! No electricity, no police, _nothing_ to prevent people you claim as allies and friends from being killed! Not even to protect me! Your own blood! And now…now you say it’s _my_ fault you did all of that!?”

His grandfather didn’t respond, simply leaning away from the finger. He was staring back at him with such undue indignance that Keith could only seethe further at the sight. For most of Keith’s life, the Arch-Omega had seemed so powerful, so perfect, and even now he seemed to be trying to project such an image. At the same time, while he was there with Keith in that collapsing box, alone and cornered, he seemed little more than a fool, too pre-occupied with himself to care about everything being aflame.

“Is _that_ what leading this city is to you?! Blaming others for your mistakes!?” Keith’s voice rose. “All this time, I thought you were a good man!”

“ _I am still a good man._ ” Even in that moment, with the accusations levied against him, Zarkon looked down at him, looking offended at the very suggestion. He threw his arms out, his teeth practically grinding as the flames flickered back to life around him. “ _I am better than a good man–I am still the Arch-Omega of Zamyatin, the ruler of the world! All belongs to me, including you, and thus all must obey my will! I cannot and do not make mistakes,_ boy _–if my will is to burn the city to the ground, and all those who defy me along with it–it shall be done!!_ ”

Keith’s hands again balled into fists. At this point, he wanted to vomit from the sheer audacity of his grandfather. No matter what he said, the Arch-Omega didn’t feel any guilt over what he did. There was no reflection, not even a hint of sorrow towards all of the lives he had disrupted and outright destroyed. This, then, was the man Keith was heir to. Whether this was simply how Keith thought of him that was making him seem more wicked with each passing dobosh–he wondered, with all of the things that had transpired, if his bias even mattered anymore.

“ _And as your sovereign, you will do as I say, my grandson, and you_ will _stand down before I make you regret it._ ”

The inferno died down again, yet at the same time, Keith could feel a burning sensation flaring up in his chest. His grandfather started to open his mouth to speak again, as he took another step forward. If Shiro had been there, perhaps Shiro might have let him speak more, to allow the elder man to correct course. Perhaps Shiro might have even come to forgive him, if things had changed. However, Shiro was not there–Keith was. And Keith was not, could not, forgive what his grandfather had done to everyone. Not this time, and not ever again.

The next thing he knew, he was letting out an angry yell, his fist flying towards the Arch-Omega. It hit steel, and all of the bones in his arm, from hand to shoulder, rattled and radiated pain up and down as the man, the fire, the melting and smelting all around him vanished. Keith let out a gasp at the dissolution of the vivid imagery around him, and he forced himself to step back. Eyes darting left and right, he looked frantically for his grandfather’s presence which before had seemed so present, so real, as to overbearing.

There was no one, and nothing to be found. There was still the massive rip in the floor, but otherwise, Keith was alone with his thoughts. He grabbed at his face, wiping his tears as he grabbed the blade once more. His course, it seemed, was set; there was no turning back. If he had to slay his grandfather when he was found, so be it. He was no fighter, but he had been taught some self-defense growing up, in case of an assassination attempt on his life. It was not much, but it would have to do with whatever he was to face.

He was almost to the top, now, somehow. Even as the lights began to flicker ever more violently, with bulbs even popping and breaking from the overflow of inexplicable energy coming from where he was heading, Keith refused to lose his nerve. He grasped the weapon ever more tightly in his hand and leaned to the side of the box where the panel was. Whoever was up there knew he was coming. He’d have to be quick.

Finally, a distorted ding echoed as the elevator screeched to a stop. With a pained whine, the doors slid open. Without missing a beat, Keith tucked and rolled out. It was a pitiful roll with his lack of practice– his head throbbed from the sudden rush of blood to his head, and he was as graceful as a pig as he nearly sliced his head off with one of the sharp indents from the elevator floor. He also nearly slammed into one of the assistants’ consoles as he kept trying to roll; in the end he simply unfurled and rolled onto his hands and knees with a growl, forcing himself to try and get up from his pitiful showing of agility and speed.

Still, it was better than the alternative, which was to be fried from the massive onslaught of actual _lightning_ that flew over him, slamming into the elevator and buckling the steel back with such force that Keith was certain the cables would snap from it. As it was, the elevator doors could barely close anymore.

“ _ **Y O U!!**_ ”

The loud, piercing shriek that came from the center of the room as the smell of burning wires filled the air was unlike any scent Keith had scented before. It was like the screech of maglev wheels braking, the swamp scream of an angry puma, and the throaty rattling of the dying, all rolled into one terrifying mouth. It did not sound remotely human, yet for a tick, Keith saw something a silhouette that might have passed for mortal, flying through the air towards him with furious speed, as the sound continued to echo and permeate through his ears.

“ _ **YOOOOOOOOU!!**_ ”

Another flash of lightning surged towards him, and he scrambled to crawl out of it's way to avoid it. He managed to get to his feet, in time to be grabbed by the throat and lifted upwards by a brawny, misshapen hand. Beneath the willowy cowl of bright white hair, a pair of bright golden slits stared back at him with poorly concealed fury as they bore down on him. Whether the one who held him was male or female, all he could see it as was _monster_.

“ _ **Perfidious little bantling. Come to steal my precious Lotor away, have you!?**_ ” A sharp, curled scimitar of a nail dug into the mark on his cheek as the cadaverous face talked with knotted roars. It took all of Keith’s willpower to not scream from the renewed pain. “ ** _Never again,_ never again _shall you falsely replace him!! Do you hear me!?_** ”

The grip on his throat began to constrict, and Keith found himself gasping for air. His eyes darted to and fro for any sign of his grandfather, but naturally there was none. He felt himself thrash at air, at nothing, to no avail; only vague did he recall the weapon in his hand. As he tried to bring it up, however, his captor simply brought their other hand up and smacked the knife out of his hand with such a strength that for a tick, Keith thought the bones in his hand were broken. The vice, meanwhile, tightened, and soon enough everything began to get darker and more distant around the corners of his eyes.

“ ** _Little mountebank…_** ” The hissing of the demon became mocking as he began to slip further. “ ** _My Omega may have protected you for your transgression into my family, but he is_** **_gone, and with him so sha_ AAAH** _ **!!**_ ”

The shriek once more, but this time she let Keith go, dropping him as she fell like a sack. Keith barely had time to inhale a clean breath of air before another muscular arm wrapped around him, pulling up to his feet. Keith struggled against this, turning to face the new attacker. Once he saw who it was, however, he immediately stopped.

“Shiro…!” he managed to cough. “You’re–”

“We have to _go_.” The sharp, frantic edge that laced Shiro’s tone brooked no argument. “Hurry, before she recovers!”

Keith wasn’t going to argue; it was clear the two of them were outmatched against whatever this was. Immediately he began hobbling over to the elevator, Shiro pushing him from behind with his working arm. A plan was starting to form in Keith’s head–maybe it was possible to climb up to the roof of the building using the elevator cables, then cut them with whatever might be up there. Or maybe they could just use the elevator normally and pray that the crazy magician that now apparently existed for whatever reason didn’t cut the cables and send them plunging to their deaths.

They were both stupid, barely workable plans, and Keith knew it. They also didn’t matter, because a massive flow of lightning suddenly seared into the walls in and around the elevator frame, transforming it into a death trap. Keith staggered back into Shiro’s arm, and both he and the alpha turned to see the arc of purple coming from the fingertips of their assailant.

“ _ **AWAY FROM LOTOR!! HE IS NOT YOURS!!**_ ” Immediately she sent the lightning towards them both, forcing them to separate in order to avoid it. “ _ **TOUCH HIM AGAIN, TRY TO CORRUPT HIM FURTHER, GO ON, AND SEE WHAT MORE I SHALL DO TO YOU!!**_ ”

Keith stumbled back into a console, letting out a coughed yelp as the ambient static in the air shocked the inside of his arms. It was only then, as the white-haired termagant began to glow and stand once more, ripping out and discarding the cutter embedded behind their knee, that it clicked as to what they were saying. He blinked, then shook his head.

“You’re–you’re insane! You’re mad!” The thing’s eyes flashed angrily as it raised its arms at Keith’s response. “Shiro’s not…Lotor was my father, he died when I was an infant!”

“ _ **NO! HE LIVES AGAIN!!**_ ” It grabbed its head, snarling. “ ** _Through steel and wire and glass, through the technology I created for the un_ grate _ful Arch-Omega, through the power of_ my love! _He returned! He is mine! You want to make him_ yours _, to possess him–you are no different from Zarkon!_** ”

“That’s…” Horrible realization began to dawn on Keith as echoes of the false Shiro pining for his mother. “What? No, _your_ creation is on the pyre of the alphas and betas. Please listen, we know the truth, it tried to kill us all–”

“ **NO** _ **! He is right here!**_ ”

“No! I tell you, that thing you made is dead!” Keith’s voice sharpened. “Burnt, then shot–he failed to kill me as well–”

“ _ **STOP!! LYING!! ABOUT MY SON!!**_ ”

All the windows in Central Command simultaneously blew out. Every console within crunched and sparked until flames spurted out, and every chair, even the Arch-Omega’s, became a pile of rubble, as a massive amount of quintessence rippled out the wizard’s mouth and surged outwards. The resulting gargantuan pulse also slammed Keith back onto the console he’d been pressed against, back first, and Shiro was blown out of his sight like a tumbleweed in the wind. All around, static flew in the thinning air, sending the hairs on Keith’s arms standing up on end and even causing a few to spark with small spouts of electricity. If the flames of the pyre below had been terrible to behold, the storm now swirling around him was infinitely worse. There was no one save Shiro to pull him out, and no weapon that could likely harm the abomination responsible for the unnatural phenomenon he was being subjected to.

Then, quicker than a blink of an eye, it was upon him, screaming spittle and incomprehensible derision into his face. The hand that was instantly raised against him lit up so brightly that the aura was white. As it descended Keith moved to dodge; with luck, it would only hit him in the shoulder or upper arm. Then again, with such heat being generated, it might also slice his face in half.

Suddenly, the hand was stopped in mid-air and forced backwards. With an angry shout, the hag attempted to pull it back forward, but Shiro had his foot on hers for leverage, and was using what strength he could to keep her restrained. Judging by how the veins in his arms were starting to bulge and how his arm shook from the strain, however, he was going to lose the advantage very soon.

“ _ **My son–!**_ ” The creature wailed almost pitifully, in complete contrast to the fury on display against Keith. “ _ **Do not do this! I act for your own good! Why do you now keep resisting…!**_ ”

Keith needed to get to that knife back, or _something_ , as pointless an endeavor as defense might have been. At least he wouldn’t die as quickly with it on hand, his mind helpfully supplied.

“Keith!” Shiro managed to get out as Keith began to run away in the opposite direction of the elevator, towards where he had seen the metal dropped. “Get out of here! The witch can’t be reasoned with–”

“ _No_! I’ve already said it–I’m not leaving here without you!” There it was. The gleam was faint, but Keith could see it. Immediately he grabbed it, this time keeping it level with his face. He bent his knees in a more defensive stance, leveling his gaze at the hellion that threatened to overpower Shiro. “You matter more to me…than anyone else in the city!”

Soon, Shiro was on his knees, with the creature twisting their–her?–arm to try and force his grip off. That was when Keith lunged forward, slashing his knife as he did so. Immediately the terrible screech emitted from the behemoth’s mouth as purple-spotted blood spilled from the stab wound the Omega had inflicted, and for a tick, Keith felt his heart soar that he had actually wounded the thing that had hurt Shiro so. He went to beckon Shiro to him, which the alpha immediately complied with 

The triumphant mood was dampened almost immediately as he watched the injury he had inflicted knit itself up, as if by some invisible needle which seemed to press the parts of the skin together, and then sew them together. In the next tick, the area of the injury, though still soaked with blood, was completely and unnaturally healed, as all other injuries had been. He could feel the knife drop out of his hands in shock at the sight; he didn’t bother picking it back up that time. He could sense the trepidation in Shiro’s shaking form as the other pulled him towards him, trying to get them both towards the elevator with gasping breaths.

Another shock of lightning forced them to drop to the ground. Looking behind them, Keith could see the charred edges of the elevator frame. Only the diamonds encrusted in the blackened metal were able to withstand the assault, glowing ominously in the generated light being emitted from the figure that floated above them.

A tick later, and suddenly Keith was forcefully yanked away from Shiro’s grip.

“ _NO_ –”

He saw Shiro throw his hand out to grab Keith back–to no avail. With speed like light itself, Keith found himself being flown away by his shirt’s collar, then thrust through the open area of one of the broken windows by the hag’s tree trunk of a hand. The air whipped around him as he found himself dangling uselessly, at least six hundred meters into the air above the city skyline, held up only by the slowly tearing silk of his shirt. He gasped for air that refused to come to his lungs, so high up they were, with no filter to aid in breathing. His fists beat on his assailant’s pulsing arm to no avail.

“ ** _Struggle, cry, curse your existence, it’s no use!_** ” The creature’s voice warped as it let out a shriek over the sounds of the sky, its white trusses flying in the wind. “ _ **Down into the fires you go, into the smoldering ruins!**_ ”

She lowered him as if she meant to drop him at that precise dobosh, and for a moment he was certain he would be released. However, after a dobosh of slowly loosening her grip, she whipped him back upwards even higher without warning. Keith’s shirt, meanwhile, tore wider from the violent movements; the nails of his captor aided in the rip, digging into his chest enough to bruise.

“ ** _Ahaha! What a shame, isn’t it, little princeling, you_ tiny _Omega whelp, to killed by a mere nameless alpha!?_** ” She cackled as she taunted. “ ** _Try to order me to let you go, hm? Ask me to spare you from this gruesome fate, won’t you? You shall see how far my mercy extends, just as the man who_ first _stole Lotor from me learned tonight. Ignorant little thrice-quiznaked fool! You who would lie to me as Zarkon did…just like him to be so prideful! You know_** **nothing** **_of the suffering you have put me through!_** ”

She leaned even further out the window, her smile filled with teeth and eyes flashing with hatred.

“ ** _But since you wish so badly to make the same mistake as my dear Omega did…then you may_ join _him in death!_** ”

“ _STOP!_ ”

Immediately the hand with Keith still in its grasp came down, as the old harpy turned to face Shiro. His flesh hand was holding something towards them both; it glowed purple between his fingers. The creature’s eyes widened, and her other hand flew to the folds of her cloak.

“ _ **I–**_ **Lotor** _ **!**_ ” Her voice became a mess of shock as she went to reach for whatever it was he held, still clutching Keith as she mercifully moved away from the windows and certain death. “ ** _You took that from me…_ stole _it…what are you_ doing _?!_** ”

“Let Keith go.” Shiro’s voice was firm as he pulled it away towards his chest. “Let him go free from the tower, and I’ll do as you say… _mother_.”

Keith saw him swallow before he said that last word. His stomach plummeted at the sight of Shiro slowly, almost clumsily, getting down on one knee. Despite the sureness of his words, he could see the alpha’s handshake as it held the vial closer to himself. He also saw that Shiro was keeping his head down, avoiding the gaze of her glowing eyes.

“ _ **My lamb…my dearest jewel…**_ ” The witch’s eyes narrowed, clearly confused. “ ** _Why?_** **W** **hy _suffer this_ impostor _son to live? He stole your birthright; he is a product of your father’s vile machinations–_** ”

“My…father.” Shiro just managed to grind out the word. “ _Zarkon_. Is what you say true? He is…dead?”

“ _ **I speak the truth, my beloved Lotor.**_ ” The horrible expression softened to something more motherly, but still no less terrifying, to Keith. “ _ **I slew the Arch-Omega before nightfall. In the room of your rebirth, his blood colors the floor. We are**_ **free** _ **of him, forever!**_ ”

_Zarkon. The Arch-Omega. Dead._

Keith’s breath hitched. Suddenly, so much of what had happened made sense; suddenly things turned on their heads. His grandfather would never have left the city undefended; the anger of the alphas and betas would have been crushed. The rebellion he had started, the one he had designed, and blessed, regardless. The rebellion he would have trampled, with all the alphas and betas left for dead, and their children drowned by Voltron’s death throes.

_All would burn, all would die. All was as exactly as I predicted._

All as Zarkon predicted? Or was it all how Keith’s dreams had screamed of this doom, since the tick he hit his head when Shiro was stolen from the ruins of the End Tick? Or in the end, was it all this woman’s doing, this alpha who abandoned the last shreds of her humanity so overtly–just as much as Zarkon might have but in a more subtle fashion? He didn’t know, nor did he know the story this woman had shared with his grandfather, or his father, even though Keith seemed to be intertwined within it’s tendrils this whole time ( _impostor son_ , the woman had just called him. Mountebank. False. _Replacement_ . Allura’s fears flashed in his mind, no, _no_ , it could not be _so_ , was his _whole life_ a _lie_ –)...

Keith felt tears sting his eyes as everything began to sink further into his bones, saturating them with cold truth even as small flames popped up on the destroyed consoles around him. Vengeance against his grandfather–not even his true grandfather if what was being spoken was in fact irrefutable verity, but was no better than a stranger, a thief in the night–wouldn’t belong to him, no matter what he felt, no matter his anger. Maybe it was never meant to be his to begin with, if Zarkon’s end had been in retribution for crimes still unknown to him.

“Yes…we _are_ free of him.” Shiro spoke quietly, almost to himself, as his chest heaved. “So why does Keith’s death matter? He can barely stand against you. Why...sully your hands with his blood, mother?”

“ _ **Because he is as guilty as the Arch-Omega!**_ ” The figure’s grip on Keith tightened. “ ** _He is a pretender, slipped into a gilded cradle that was never his, claimed as the_ son _you never had! He cannot live–_** ”

“…Then...then let _me_ do it…dearest mother.”

And there it was. The sudden coldness and flat affect in Shiro’s tone was far worse than the injuries, even more terrifying than the revelations that tumbled so freely from the witch’s mouth. It was nothing at all like the Shiro that Keith had met in the ruins or had reunited with in the sinking Underground. It was like hearing the voice of the crystalline cuckoo that had replaced Shiro, lacking the heart that Keith had loved so much. And as he looked up to face the monster, his eyes were completely blank and devoid of emotion.

“This is…this is a type of quintessence, isn’t it? Will…will it enhance me like it did you?” The woman emphatically nodded at the other alpha’s question. “Let him be, then, so I can use this power you are granting me…to end him personally. Let _me_ be the last thing he sees before he dies!”

For a tick, Keith feared, truly, that the Shiro who had perished by flame and bullet had not been the only false one made by this woman. That there had been others she had created, one by one, and sent out to obfuscate and bedazzle everyone into accepting it as reality. Had he made a mistake? Was there truly no Shiro left –was there nothing but the quintessence creation of the witch that the true Shiro had spoken about?

Indeed, as the monster let out an ecstatic cry of agreement and tossed him at Shiro’s feet–but not before placing a massive trunk of a foot onto his back to keep him still –Keith couldn’t help but groan as he looked up, pleadingly and desperately searching for any sign of the Shiro he loved. Wanting Shiro to look him in the eyes, to reassure him that he was real and true and everything Keith had seen in the true Shiro.

“Alpha…but you’re _not_ …!”

Shiro didn’t look at him. Instead, he closed his eyes flipped the glowing item in his hand–revealing it to be a syringe–and, after popping the cap off, plunged it into a spot right above his heart. His body jolted as his working hand then released its grip on the vial and began to push on the plunger, injecting the foul liquid right into his body.

“ _ **NO!**_ ” Keith reached impotently for the syringe, only to watch helplessly as he pulled the apparatus out. “ _SHIRO_ —!”

“ _ **Yes…**_ ” the woman let out a gasp of pure happiness, and Keith would not have been more disgusted if she let out tears of joy as well from where she stood. “ _ **Yes, my sweet, my world…!**_ ”

The effect was almost immediate. On the fabric on his chest, red bloomed, mingling with violescent splotches as it spread. Shiro’s brow furrowed, and he began to hyperventilate as his fist clenched and the veins in his neck and forehead began to bulge and squirm with each palpitation, each breath. He let out a cry of pain as whatever it was he gave himself coursed through his body, and he fell forward, slamming his fist into the floor and leaving a dent from where he hit. The shaking and convulsing in his body became so frantic that his body became a vibrating blur.

Then–like in a horror film that played in the Orpheum where man turned into monster, as with the false Shiro on the flames–Shiro changed in front of him. The metamorphosis this time, however, was not one of wisps of smoke misting off the skin, but of a flowering that began beneath it and deeper. He let out a roar as his own teeth became sharpened like a wolf’s, along with the nails in his flesh hand. Lines of purple began to trickle through his arms and neck, and his eyes began to swim with a faint golden glow and a ring of purple began to form around his pupils as well. His chest and torso began to tear through the thick sweater he wore, as did his thighs through his pants, showing banded and spidery capillaries of pale white and deep, sickly purple.

“ ** _Let it flow through you, my son…it will not burn you up, I promise, look! You and I both can master this power!_** ” Keith couldn’t bear to watch the transformation any further, and he closed his eyes as tightly as he could, even as the woman holding him crowed in triumph. “ _ **Now, m** **y dear, wild, unbroken stallion of a son! Let your false Omega child tremble like a coward, knowing he cannot fool you again.**_ ”

Keith did not open his eyes when he heard the deep scraping of nails on the floor, nor did he open them when he heard the deep and feral growl that seemed to emanate from the other’s chest. It was only when the din turned, at last, into heavy breathing that he hopelessly looked up towards the alpha. He felt his blood chill at the sight of Shiro looking down at him, more animal than man with his teeth and cat-like eyes bleeding purple and gold. His cheeks were pale and seemingly hollowed out, the purple veins dotting them until the skin turned completely violet around the ears and jaw. The veins in his thighs and especially his pectorals–each bigger than his head now–throbbed visibly with each passing tick beneath what was left of Shiro’s clothing. His nearly-as large flesh hand bore massive claws that could easily rip Keith’s heart out. Even his metal prosthetic, now at least a size too small and tightly squeezing on his upper right arm, was sparking and glowing as if ready to come back to life at long last.

_You have every right to fear me._

It was sickening, all of it. First the flood, then the false Shiro; the truth about his grandfather, and now, the real Shiro…Keith shook his head at the sight, at the echo of words past, and tried to close his eyes again.

“ **Keith. No.** ” Shiro’s voice, too, was distorted, deeper, as he let out a commanding growl that no Omega could ever dare disobey. “ **You will** **_look at me_** **.** ”

At this, Keith felt himself break inside, and he could only look up at the other once more. This time, it was with the lethargy that must have come to many before him, when they accepted their inevitable, bloody fate. It couldn’t end this way, with Shiro inexplicably turning on Keith, yet it seemed like it would, after all that they had both endured to save the city and each other.

“ **Yes, that’s a good and obedient little Omega,** ” Shiro purred as he bent back down, moving to grasp Keith’s chin and thrusting it upwards, squishing his unburned cheek as he did so. Keith was forced to lock his eyes onto Shiro’s newly changed face as a result. “ **Now. I want you to keep your eyes open, so you can _see_ what I’m about to do. I made a promise, after all.**”

For what seemed like an eternity, Keith waited for his end as Shiro leaned down, like a cat waiting to pounce on his prey. The coldness in the eyes he beheld seemed more than he could bear–especially if they were meant to be the last thing he would see before he died –and Keith tried to imagine something else. Something better. Shiro’s face, when it was warm and kind and true, just before they kissed. The beauty he had, despite his scars, and the laughter and peace and hope he always seemed to bring with him. All those things that made Keith love him and foolishly want him as his alpha in the first place, he could at least pretend were there in the cold expression that now filled in for the other’s face in his last doboshes.

“ _ **Kill him.**_ ” From above, the beastly women’s hand grabbed Keith by the hair, pulling him ever more towards Shiro. “ _ **Do it as you will, my sweet Lotor, until there is nothing left! KILL HIM!!**_ ”

Then–like a switch being turned on–the fantasy was reality for Keith and Keith alone. The warmth returned to Shiro’s energy-ringed eyes as if it had never left. The kindness filled his rising brow, though this was also as well tinged with sadness and regret. Even the corners of his mouth tugged into a small, reassuring smile, one that lacked the seeming malicious intent of his words. At the sight, Keith’s own eyes widened.

Then, faster than Keith could truly conceive, Shiro struck, tackling the cloaked obscenity with such force that a tuft of Keith’s hair was ripped out from the back of his head. Both flew in the air before slamming into one of the consoles, and the damage was so complete that the metal simply collapsed beneath the force and power of the two.

“ **RUN!** ” As the witch howled in shock and pain beneath him, Shiro turned to Keith, eyes bright and wide. “ **KEITH, _RUN_!**”

It was in the tone of another alpha command, and for a dobosh, Keith almost obeyed. He stood up on unsteady feet, grabbing at his head with a groan, turning towards the elevator. Then he stopped, turned to see the fight that raged between Shiro and the woman. It was fast, too fast for him to discern save for the giant blurs that smashed into the consoles, smashing them utterly beyond function with each passing dobosh. Lightning flashed over his head, and he found himself forced to duck as the two finally crashed into Zarkon’s own console, turning it into scrap metal and sparks. Shiro rolled with a growl, before standing up and grabbing the hag by her hair.

“ _ **WHY!?**_ ”

She screamed with unholy agony as she grabbed him in response, pushing him, digging her nails into his back. She then pulled at him, red tears of blood forming in her eyes as her form seemed to spasm out, become more unstable. Her arms began to grow extra hands and fingers that were visible even beneath the cloak; her mouth began to salivate bright pink as it sagged and rippled across her face, and yet another set of teeth grew in.

It was as if the mutations were a response to the collapse of the woman’s very will and mind, which had alone held them all back from becoming reality. As the two grappled, briefly coming to a stop behind him, Keith couldn’t help but continue staring at the sight. He’d always known about the dangers of exposing oneself too much quintessence in any form–he remembered all too well both the effects of Flux on those who took it, and the terrible burns the workers at the E-Machine had been subjected to from the explosion. Yet those had been minor, compared to the massive, painful-looking alterations like the ones he was witnessing at that very moment.

Even as he fought like a tiger, he saw how pale Shiro was, and how he sweated like he had a fever. How his metal arm seemed to malfunction and shake even though it was, at the same time, clearly dead. A line of pink froth began to form on the sides of his mouth as he tried to contain the rapidly changing opponent with only one working arm, enhanced as even that was.

_Shiro…!_

He stepped towards the fight as it smashed through the final computer consoles, sending splinters of metal and bolts of flame both across the room and up close towards him. He couldn’t leave Shiro alone to face what was happening, no matter what. As it was, the mutant had managed to rip out of Shiro’s grip, grabbing him from behind with her spouting hands.

“ _ **WHY DO YOU NOT LOVE ME ANYMORE, LOTOR!?**_ ” The hunch in the woman’s back engorged, grew, and multiplied into a half dozen throbbing, squirming pustules of white and teal. Right after the robes she wore tore from the pressure of them, like so many grapes in a cluster. She teetered backwards from the gravity, trying to keep a struggling Shiro in her iron grasp. “ _ **WHY MUST YOU LOVE**_ **HIM** _ **!? AFTER ALL**_ **I** _ **HAVE DONE FOR YOU, IN LIFE AND DEA–**_ ”

She didn’t finish that sentence; suddenly she was at the edge of one of the broken windows. One more step, and she fell out, Shiro falling right with her. Suddenly, Keith was the only one in Central Command; all was silent in the room for a tick.

“ _SHIRO_!!–”

Keith didn’t hear himself screaming the alpha’s name, nor did he feel himself running towards the edge. Everything was a teary blur, a great blob of nothing important, beyond the frame of the window. His heart, as well, was plummeting as fast as Shiro had to have been at that very moment. If only Keith hadn’t obeyed, if only he’d not hesitated to get back into to fight. If only so many things from the past movement. Flashes of their time together were all Keith could see and feel, along with the glimmer of despair that came from knowing he would never experience those moments ever again. Not with Shiro.

Shiro was gone.

“ _ **SHIROOOO!!**_ ”

He wailed again as he threw his upper body out of the window, fully expecting to see the falling bodies far out of his reach. Instead, after a tick, his hands slammed down on the mangled window frame, sliding down to grab at the clawed hand that clung to it with such force it was bending it outwards with the weight.

“ **Keith-** ”

Hanging below him, hair whipping wildly around his face, Shiro somehow wheezed his name out despite liquid spattering on the steel façade. His eyes became wide, glowing with fear as Keith tried to pull him back up. He was far heavier than Keith had anticipated, not helped by how tightly the other clung to the frame. Keith shook his head, refusing to give up as he pulled harder.

“Shiro! Grab onto me!”

“ **Keith,** **_no_** –” The metal frame was sagging further with each passing tick. Shiro grit his teeth, looking up at him with pleading desperation in his eyes. “ **Don’t!** ”

“I have to!” Small spots of water began to plop onto Shiro’s knuckles. “You can’t do this–I can’t lose you again!”

“ **You’ll be pulled down with–!!** ” The frame lurched. “ **Please! I’d rather it be just me, Keith–** ”

A gargled wail from beneath Shiro echoed upwards, and Keith forced himself to lean further out to see the cause. To his horror, he saw the cause of Shiro’s determination to die, and to keep Keith away from the edge. The mutations of the hag were coming fast and hard now, and instead of the hunched monster Keith had first alighted on, there was now a mass of protuberant furuncles covered in increasingly-numerous red fault lines, with hair-like tentacles coming out of long, thick, insectile limbs.

That was not the worst of it. The tentacles and limbs clinging and climbing up on, if not outright merging with, Shiro’s convulsing prosthesis was. Keith’s breath hitched at the sight of it.

“ _ **LoToRRRrrrRR…**_ ”

A thin, skeletal face, the last reasonably human-looking part of the wretch, bubbled out of the lumps, one eye glowing gold and the other lighting lilac. Alizarin lines crosshatched all over the mouth, the cheeks, the chin, the forehead. The jaw unhinged, opening wide to show infinite lamprey teeth, rolling back and forth from the front of the mouth like waves of chainsaws.

“ _ **OooOOOHHhhH, mY sOonN…**_ ” The frame sagged, nails and bolts popping out of it as Shiro was forced further downward. “ _ **YooOu Do mEeeE wrrrrRRrrOnG, bUt IiiI ShAll prRRrrRroEeCt yOooOooOOu regardless…dEArRRrrRRrest, DarRRrliNG LoooOOOtoOrrRRRr…**_ ”

The metal was starting to warp into a U-shape under Shiro’s grip.

“ _ **WeEe sHaLL bEEEeeEe togEtheRRr fOrRRRreVErRR…aS I pRrrRRomISeD…I wOn’T let…MelANoChAitRRrrRA, RrRrreAl oR fAlsE…tEArrRRr Us aParrrRRrRrT…!**_ ”

Keith’s eyes widened; he was running out of time to save Shiro.

_…Peace…if I could see even a small step taken in my lifetime towards that goal…I could die happy knowing I made a difference._

In that tick, Keith only knew one thing for certain: he didn’t want to live a life where he failed to save Shiro. His dynamic, his past, those things meant nothing to Keith when all was said and done. Shiro was something good that came out of the crushing monstrosity of Zamyatin’s society, for all its attempts to make him into something else. For all of the witch’s machinations, she hadn’t destroyed him either. Not yet.

To lose him, after everything they had both gone through, but most especially what Shiro had endured–Keith refused that ending utterly.

_You really want that._

Not without a fight.

 _Is that want_ you _want?_

_I…I want…_

He ran from the window, only going five paces away where the blood and quintessence-crusted pen knife had been dropped by him mere doboshes before.

_I want peace…equality…happiness…_

He ran back, both hands clenched around the dagger as one might hold a sword. The tentacles were climbing up towards Shiro’s shoulder, now, slow and steadily. The fingers had already been fused with whatever being the other alpha was becoming; flagellum-like growths were already popping up like mushrooms where his knuckles were. The window frame was sinking more and more, letting out whining squeaks as it started to get dangerously close to breaking entirely.

Shiro’s head was down, and his eyes were closed. Even as Keith saw him from above, he could see that the scarred, purple-veined face, though contorted with pain and sadness, was simultaneously filled with peace, even acceptance of his seemingly inevitable fate. He looked ready to let go at any tick, with his mind closed off from the mortal world and his inner thoughts preoccupied by what he might find in the next, should there have been one. Keith could almost swear that he saw Shiro’s flesh fingers loosening from the end of the window.

_But also, I want you._

“Shiro!” Shiro’s head bolted up towards Keith; he let out a gasp as he saw the gleam of metal in Keith’s hands. “Move your head to me!!”

The alpha opened his mouth, hesitation knitting his brow; if he had made any kind of sound, Keith couldn’t hear it over the howling wind of the high air around them. After that, though, Shiro closed his eyes again, and ducked his head as Keith called for. The metal prosthesis was almost fully covered, and the tentacles were about to start engulfing Shiro’s flesh. He only had ticks left to act.

Keith raised the knife into the air, high and straight as he could.

“ _ **SoooOOOooN!**_ ” The monster let out another cry of simmering rage and blind fear, as its eyes alighted on what he was about to do. “ _ **Do nOt LeT YoUR fAlSE cHilD sEParAtE uS aGAiN! SWeEt LOOoOTOooOOORRr…! CoMe WiTh Me, hE WilL dEsTrrrRRRrrOy YOu, oNlY I cAn sAvE yOU! OnLy wItH Me sHaLl yOU hAVe WhAT wAs pRomIsED yOu bY yOuR rEBiRTh!! Oh, pLeAsE, PleASe, PLEasE, mY dEarRReSt, BeAtUtIfuL, woNDeRRrfUL, pErrRfeCt sON–**_ ”

“ _ENOUGH!!_ ” Something in the frame snapped, and so, finally, did Keith. _“HE’S_ NOT _YOUR_ QUIZNAKING DEAD SON!!”

The eyes bugged out at the sound of Keith’s scream as he shouted at the top of his lungs. All around him, everything became as silent as the dead save his words. Even the wind seemed to stop, as if in anticipation of what he would say next.

“ _SO LEAVE. HIM._ **_BE_** _!!_ ”

On the last word, Keith swung the blade down with as much force and strength as he could possibly muster into his arms. Metal connected with metal, and then, he felt friction work against him. It was far easier than he thought it would be–more like chopping through an onion, or peeling the skin off a potato, than trying to cut through industrial-grade metal. Even with the sparks and fizzle that came from slicing through the steel-like exterior, even with the snapping of the wires and cogs, the breaking glass and the spilling of quintessence that made up the internal workings–against Keith’s might and the sharp edge it might as well have been softened butter.

There was no sound from Shiro as the larger part of the prosthetic was cleanly cleaved from the little stump of silver that was left, save for a single gasp. No sound came from the mutant abomination that still clung onto the severed limb, even as the jaw unhinged and opened wide, wider, larger than the circumference of Shiro’s chest. Soon enough it was fully open, but the scream that would have been emitted never came as both it and the artificial appendage had started to fall down, down, _down_ …

Tentacles flailed; the pustules and eyes writhed wildly as its form became more distant by the tick. They were all futile gestures; the distance from Central Command to the very bottom level was the highest in the city. When she at last landed after the dozen or so ticks it would take for her to fall, she would most assuredly be dead. No amount of quintessence could heal someone–something–with a form made as unstable as that.

Keith could have watched the whole time, until the monster’s form disappeared into the blackened mass of buildings beneath him. He didn’t and wouldn’t. Instead, he tossed the knife aside and summoned his strength once more, this time to pull Shiro upwards and into the window. The alpha was heavy in his altered state, and only having one arm made it all the more difficult to get him to safety. However, the adrenaline pumping into Keith gave him enough power for him to have lifted ten Shiros if he needed to be; once Shiro gained a foothold on the side of the building, it was a quick affair.

A dobosh later, Shiro’s stomach was scraping up against the windowsill, barely missing the glass shards. With a grunt, Keith managed to pull the other up onto his feet, only for him to collapse to his knees, then dry heave; finally, after several chest-wrenching coughs, Shiro wrenched himself out of Keith’s grasp–bringing up a large, viscous ball of bloodied violet quintessence mere ticks later.

“ **K-keith…!** ”

The rasping from Shiro as he vomited another round of the disgusting, thick manna from his mouth and onto the floor sounded pained, even tortured. Once more Keith could see the veins fluctuate wildly as the other’s body tried to accept the quintessence it had been given, even as, at the same time, it was rejecting the fluid out of the other’s mouth.

“ **For-forgive me, please…forgive me…** ” The convulsing figure fell further to his remaining hand, scratching out what words he could. Salt water began to mix with the foul elixir as his pitiful wheezing continued. “ **Protect…I wanted to protect you…I knew it could cost me my life…yet _you_ saved _me_ , pulled me back. I…**”

It was only then that Keith let his own dam collapse fully, and he burst into tears for what he hoped would be the last time in his life.

“ **I don’t understand…** ”

“Alpha…! Oh, my alpha…!”

His arms were around Shiro’s torso immediately after, and he buried his head into the other’s shoulder. The alpha’s scent was buried deep in the smell of the strange sweet rot which permeated the quintessence of the witch, but it was there. Very slowly, as the alpha retched and hacked and convulsed with tears of pain streaming down his face, the rot seemed to give way to the smell of cool, dewy grass on a clear, sunny morning, surrounded by a grove of sunflowers and maple trees.

“Shiro…you saved me, so I did the same for you…we saved each other. Don’t you see?”

A hand went to card through Shiro’s sweat-mussed hair as Keith deposited gentle kisses onto Shiro’s webbed, scarred face without any fear or hesitation. He’d almost lost Shiro once more, this time to a terrible choice between Keith’s life and his own. He was determined that Shiro never again need made that choice; his own mind was made up.

“My sweet, dear Shiro…alpha…you are more precious to me than you can know…!”

Then, finally he kissed the other on his lips, not caring how gross the smell of his breath was. His touch was feather soft.

“ _I love you_ …!”

At this declaration, Shiro sagged again in Keith’s arms; this time it was Shiro’s head buried in Keith’s chest, and his choked, incoherent words were lost for the most part. Still, Keith didn’t need to hear Shiro speak aloud that he also loved Keith; his actions had been more than enough. He was satisfied enough to hold his alpha, now that the monster was gone; it was enough to gently nurse his love, to rock him back and forth as he expelled the vile pollution that he’d willingly put in his own body for Keith’s sake, his sobbing punctured with sickened cries and moans. Soon enough they were covered in dried fluids, both their shirts and pants ripped and ruined beyond salvage from the battles they had faced. All around them, small sparks of flame shot from the ruined consoles and sent smoke out the windows and into the sky; the elevator was dented to such a degree that there was no guarantee they could have fled even if they had the strength to. Yet even then Keith didn’t care so long as he was with Shiro. If they were trapped together only to die after all they’d been through, he decided, so be it.

So he held Shiro in the faint darkness, as if he were the only other person left in the world, rocking him and cleaning his mouth of the impure spittle as the alpha’s body rejected it. Time meant nothing, nor did the pain of Keith’s own burns, or even the smoke swirling around Central Command. Soon enough, the fires would die; their wounds would heal; the sun would rise. That much Keith was certain of.

Until then, he would hold onto Shiro, guide him back to humanity once more, and then, even after that, never let go. Keith loved Shiro and that was that, no matter what.


	16. Epilogue

“ _oh…alpha…_ Keith…”

Words began to echo through Keith’s mind as he drifted through the blissful void of his mind. There had been no nightmares to plague him, no sign of his grandfather’s severe silhouette or the great towering inferno that engulfed the city. No abominable form of Shiro, haloed with a wreath of fire, haunted him.

Indeed, Keith didn’t know he had fallen asleep, or had lost any semblance of consciousness, until he felt something sharp poke in his cheek once, twice, thrice.

“Master Keith!”

“Ah–?!”

Immediately he was sitting up, eyes wide–thus getting the rays of the morning sun bearing right into his retinas. Immediately, his eyes scrunched shut, and he let out a moan as he turned away to blink away the more severe phosphenes in the air. Next to him, he felt another large, warm form start to stir; turning to look, he slowly opened his eyes to see Shiro laying there, his eyes slowly opening to look up at Keith with bleary confusion. He also had what was left of Keith’s shirt covering his back, though Keith himself couldn’t recall when he had done that. Though most of the changes to his body had reverted through the night as it had expelled the tainted quintessence, he still had some purple veins down his spine, and his hand and lower arm were still tinted purple, his nails long and sharp-looking.

But he was still Shiro. Still his alpha, no matter what, after–

All at once, Keith’s bearings fully returned to him, and he let out a gasp as he looked around. The morning sun was streaming into what remained of Central Command’s floor unimpeded, reflecting off the twisted metal corpses of the consoles that had once been the eyes and brain of the entire city, and thus the planet. They still smoked, but only barely, and there were no flames left to speak of. Nearby, a pair of firemen were throwing pouches of retardant cloth over the wreckage to smother the Arch-Omega’s console, still smoldering even vargas later. A set of Ministry officials were taking account of the wreckage; without active VAIBOs, they were snapping photos and taking notes with more rudimentary cameras and notebooks.

Finally, Keith turned behind him to look at the elevator; in the sunlight, it looked far worse than it had in the darkness, all bent and pitiful. Most of its frame was blackened and charred, and even the diamonds looked cloudy from the damage. On the other hand, it must have still been safe enough to ride, if the half-dozen new individuals on the floor chanced riding it up.

“ _There_ you are.” He wouldn’t be leaving just yet–above him was General Zethrid, looking only slightly annoyed with him as she took her baton at him. “We all thought you were dead when you ran in here and didn’t come back out! What were you thinking, you idiot!? Our supply of Medquint is already stretched thin as it is–that’s going to _scar_ , oh is Zarkon going to kill me…!”

“I…” Keith blinked at the baton, before looking up at Zethrid. “But I had to save Shiro.”

There was, of course, more to it than that. But that was all that seemed to come out of his mouth at that precise tick.

“For the love of–” Zethrid slapped her face as she brought her baton up. “ _This_ again!? Shiro this, Shiro that–and let me guess, he’s the Champion, that _quiznaking_ murderer, who is _sleeping next to you_ on top of it! I ought to beat his brains in–”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Immediately Keith’s arms were behind him, covering the groggy alpha as he continued to stir, before the other could bring any force down. “If you hurt my alpha you’ll regret it–!”

His alpha. Oh. He’d said that out loud, judging by the way the color drained from the general’s face. She took a step back, looking at both he and Shiro, who, out of the corner of his eye, was now fully awake and staring at Zethrid with wide, worried eyes. Keith, for his part, clenched his fists and refused to move from where he sat. Let Zethrid try to attack Shiro with him around, he decided; he wouldn’t stand for it, even if he was at a very obvious physical disadvantage against her.

“By Sendak’s ghost…” In the end, Zethrid contented herself with pointing her stick at Keith, shaking it threateningly in his face. “When the Arch-Omega hears of this I don’t even _want_ to know what he will want to do with you, you…you…quiznak, I can’t even think of a good descriptor for what this is!!”

At the mention of his grandfather, Keith’s brow furrowed. Slowly he stood up; he could feel Shiro’s hand gently press against the back of his calf as he stood up to his full height. After taking a deep breath, he looked Zethrid as straightly in the face, and with as much calm as he possibly could.

“My grandfather…you didn’t find him yet.”

“Of course not!” Zethrid looked ten ticks away from just hauling out and smacking him in the face regardless of his importance. “You might have noticed last night, Master Keith, that I was a bit busy trying to not die in the middle of a city-wide riot!”

“Then you don’t know what happened to him.” Keith steeled himself. “He’s dead. Murdered, yesterquintant.”

Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing to turn and stare at Keith at this proclamation. Zethrid’s eyes widened to the point of bugging out, and the only sound that could be heard was her baton clattering to the floor.

“No…it…” Zethrid shook her head in denial. “It cannot be…how _could_ you–he was your blood–!”

“It wasn’t Keith.” From behind him, Keith could hear Shiro stand up at last, albeit on unsteady feet. His remaining hand clenched firmly onto Keith’s right shoulder, and despite the claws, Keith brought his hand up to clasp around it. “The woman who did it…it was Zarkon’s alpha mate, the mother of…of Lotor.”

“Zarkon’s _what_!?” Keith had no idea Zethrid’s voice could go as high as it was at that tick. Her response was barely a squeak. “He didn’t _have_ an alpha mate–those kind of bonds are illegal, why would _he_ ever _bond_ with–”

“You’ll probably find him where I last saw him, in her home.” Slowly, almost reluctantly, Shiro’s hand parted from Keith. “I know where it is, if you want me to lead you there.”

“I–that is–”

If Zethrid could drop another baton on the floor, it seemed as though she likely would have. Instead, she unholstered her gun and dropped it down with a thud.

“ _Wow_.” One of the Ministry note takers turned to look at Zethrid. “Not exactly what I was expecting to wake up to this morning, how about you?”

“Not _now_ , Ezor! Quiznak…!” After gritting her teeth, the general growled, shutting her eyes. “And where’s this supposed alpha mate now, so Zamyatin may gain the justice it shall seek and deserves against them!?”

“Dead as well–Keith killed _her_. Whatever remains of her is somewhere below us.” Shiro closed his eyes. “She was responsible for the Robeast, and partly the riots as well.”

“Robeast…he doesn’t mean the remnants of that machine that you brought into the Ministry, Zethrid?” The officer called Ezor piped up. “Man, I missed a _lot_ last night, didn’t I? Ha!”

No one laughed with her; after an awkward dobosh, the woman cleared her throat, then looked down over one of the computer consoles, hands folded behind her back.

“General?” Her head motioned towards Keith. “Do you, ah, need me to take him out of here? Or…”

“…If what he said is true…then…!”

The massive woman, one who, it was said, was so strong she could drink battery acid for breakfast and live, looked ready to burst into tears as she snapped up straight and bowed from her waist. Slowly, the firemen and Ministry workers who looked on also stopped their work to snap a similar salute toward Keith.

“Then…as the head of the Ministry of Order, and as currently the…highest surviving ranked official in the government thus far found…I declare you Arch-Omega of Zamyatin, from now until the end of your natural life. I shall begin preparations for your official ascension to the position immediately.”

Keith turned to look at Shiro, only to find that Shiro was getting ready to salute as well. Immediately Keith stopped him, shaking his head; Shiro’s eyes widened at the refusal of his obeisance.

“No. _No_ bowing.” Keith turned back to Zethrid, who, along with everyone else, stared at him quizzically. “And…if I’m really in charge, there’s something we need to do first, before anything else.”

* * *

The smoke still rose from the skyline of Zamyatin against the sky as it changed, as the time changed from mid-morning to early afternoon.

Keith stood in front of the Alcázar, with Shiro by his side. The smell of burning wood and flesh filled the air; before him, the last parts of the pyre was burning itself out, leaving nothing but a pile of ash and black steel. There was no sign of the Robeast, as Shiro had called it, save for the stain from its inner liquid bled onto the concrete. All around was silence save for the wind which gently wound through the streets–perhaps the first time in a thousand decaphoebs that the city had ever been so quiet, so dead.

Dead. Death. The news had started to come to him despite the lack of VAIBOs as to that grim matter. Many hundreds of omegas, at the very least had lost their lives in the chaos. Indeed, the true number of the dead was as of yet unknown; Keith didn’t and couldn’t know how many others had died in the city due to the wrath of the alphas and betas.

What was known was that the toll was especially high in the upper echelons, and in areas where the rioting alphas and betas had been unaware of the Robeast’s deceit, or of the peace Hunk had managed to make, or really knew of anything but the chance to get back at their oppressors. Many of those who made up Zarkon’s greatest and grandest followers–the industrialists, the politicians, the blue-blooded from the most illustrious families, the most famous and most fabulous, and the highest of the high–had been nearly all but wiped out. Many had died with their families thanks to vengeful servants free from their chips, leaving only a few precious heirs in the next generation to take over what was left of their business empires. Of the great and grand, only Slav Smiljan–one of the men responsible for the beginning of Shiro’s decades-long torment–was confirmed to in fact be alive, having confined himself, and those willing to stay with him for a prolonged period of time, inside a bunker burrowed deeper than even the Runs beneath the city. He was still refusing to come out.

Despite the horror, there were other stories coming out that painted a more nuanced picture of what had happened outside of the city center and Level 3 in general. He was hearing anecdotal stories of alpha servants, unchipped and unbidden, protecting their omega charges by hiding them in closets and behind false walls; by faking their deaths via dumping paint or animal pats around them; even by switching clothes with them so they could slip off while the alphas bought them time to escape. There was also a story about the group of elderly alphas and betas who bravely left the Club of the Olympians soon after Keith had, led by none other than Ryner. They fearlessly went to whatever neighborhoods they could, banging gongs and blowing whistles sneaked out from the sports facilities of the complex, in order to alert any alphas present that their children were safe, and for any, regardless of dynamic, to follow them to safety as well. Many took up the offer; nearly all who had were still in the Club, which still stood, despite the dozens of buildings that had been burnt and torn down all around it on every level.

The alpha witch’s Robeast had tricked many, had caused the deaths of untold numbers, and nearly caused the city to lose its soul, if not its skyline. But not all abandoned Shiro’s words; not all had heard the call to violence. There was yet a hope for the city. He had ideas, thoughts on the immediate aftermath that lay before everyone, and he intended to put those things into effect as soon as possible. The alpha and beta children could certainly stay at the Club of the Olympians for as long as they needed, along with those who he and Shiro saved. Unfortunately, despite the space the Club afforded, it was not enough for everyone; many of the parents would need to be housed elsewhere, especially with the Underground inaccessible, if not outright uninhabitable to them, for the near future. Food and medical care for everyone was going to be the next problem that needed rectification sooner rather than later; outside of seeing what everyone topside already had stored, he’d need to gain access to the surplus supplies his grandfather and his cronies had stored up for themselves, as well as to set up medical facilities when the hospitals filled up with the injured and sick.

Everything new would have to be natural for the time being. Producing food pills, and new medicine output were out of the current equation with the power out; for that matter, no electricity meant things like the VAIBO system, the urbanetic cars, the mass transit, and many of the other technologies that had been relied upon, especially by the omegas, would be unavailable for phoebs at the very least. Restoring basic electricity and power to the city would be a priority after food and medicine. Restoring a means of producing the energy needed for the hundreds of functions the people were used to–to return Zamyatin so something resembling what it was before–would have to be a far more distant goal, with the infrastructure of the Underground machines destroyed and no backups on hand. Voltron was gone– and with it the ability to refine the quintessence that ran the other behemoths; whatever little might have been left was all the city had, forever. Outside of simply reconstructing the machines elsewhere with exact specifications–which itself would take dozens of decaphoebs to get them working to handle anywhere near the capacity the city had yesterquintant–there was a distinct possibility that Zamyatin would have to abandon the great machines of their ancestors, and with them Voltron and quintessence, entirely for something else less economical, but also less volatile.

Those things and more would have to be addressed, in their time. Meanwhile, Zethrid had volunteered to go check on his grandmother–on _Ellen_ ; if the witch spoke true, they truly shared no blood bond–before following his first, official command to her. No one knew if she was alive; Keith would not have been shocked to learn she didn’t survive. Even if she did, he could imagine her borderline-melodramatic devastation at the loss of her position, the loss of her only connection to power and prestige. No doubt she would throw herself at his feet for a stipend, a place to live, anything he deigned fit to keep her in comfort, as she would no longer have access to the dinners, the soirees, or the money as she once had. He wasn’t sure what he would do with that, if she lived, just yet.

It didn’t matter what his grandmother wanted, in any case–there was a far more important task to undertake on that new morning. Soon enough, there was a rumble of marching footsteps that began to inch its way towards the decimated intersection like thunder.

“Master Keith!” At this, Keith turned to see Zethrid running over to him. Flanking her was Hunk, alongside the sole surviving Level Mayor and a single Ministry patrolman. Behind him, he could feel Shiro subtly take a step back. “I’ve done as you asked.”

“Keith!” Hunk threw his arms around him, smothering him with a deep hug. “You’re ok! I’m so glad…!”

“ _Ghhk_ —air, Hunk!” Once Hunk let go of him, Keith looked to the female omega, taking several deep breaths to compose himself. “Are those the alphas and betas from last night, as I asked?”

“They and many more, too many to count! They are coming to parley peacefully, or so I’m told,” Zethrid paused. “As for your grandmother, she is–”

Keith shook his head. He mouthed the word ‘later’, before turning his head to the mass of dirty, soot-and-blood-caked bodies that now approached him on the streets. Leading them was 57291-E-2, with Krolia marching behind him; next to her was Pidge, who supported Ryner as she hobbled. Behind those three were several hundred alphas and betas, all in various sets of clothing, from various walks and occupations. Some he recognized from the pyre but whose names he did not know; there was a strapping young man covered in dried blood, marching alongside the sullen-looking alpha who had lighted the pyre, standing taller than many of their comrades. Others he had never seen before, but there was no doubt why they were here. They were leaders, elders, trusted kin among their sections and groups and dynamic packs. Unlike before, where those that had arrived set upon him in a flash like a pack of rabid wolves as the next sacrifice, they know marched slowly and solemnly towards the Alcázar, heads bowed towards the ground.

“Master Keith, let me handle this.” Zehtrid brought a hand up before Keith could respond. “This is your first quintant on the job, after all. I know this man a little; I’m sure I can come to an agreement with him to stand down!”

When the horde got within five meters of the Alcázar’s entrance, 57291-E-2 raised a hand, and on cue they all stopped. Slowly, he, Krolia, Pidge, and Ryner began to approach, his completely wrecked cap in hand. As they came closer, it was Zethrid who stiffened, standing in front of Keith as, at last, the two sides met.

For a long, tense dobosh, no one moved. Then, finally, the alpha foreman brought a hand up, bringing it towards the general after wiping it on the side of his uniform. Keith observed that it was dirty and encrusted with callouses from untold decaphoebs of labor.

“Er, officer.” The alpha’s eye darted left and right. “So, you’re here to negotiate with us too, are you?”

“…Indeed I am, alpha 57291-E-2.” Zethrid pursed her lips as she looked down at the hand. Her own perfectly manicured hand did not come up; she almost seemed embarrassed and confused as to what to do with the ruffian in front of her. It was almost as if an alpha being so polite without any violent prompting needed on her part was inconceivable. “So, uh. Hmm. Still got rope burns from when you tied me up.”

“Well, I…yes I did. After, uh, you did it…first?” The former E-Machine foreman faltered, looking at his hand before bringing it down with a sigh. He turned to his cohorts, a hopeless frown on his face. “What do I do? I’ve never had to do this before! I’m an electric maintenance foreman, not a high-stakes negotiator!”

“Well, I’d say just kiss already myself, but–”

“Pidge, no!”

“What?” Even after Krolia elbowed her, the beta leaned over to look at Hunk. “Come on, man, it would be _way_ less awkward than what’s happening right now!”

Keith swallowed as he watched the exchange. Clearly, neither side knew what in the quiznak they were doing in terms of just talking to one another like human beings, much less what to do to solve the impasse that existed between them. They had been so stratified, so brainwashed, so trapped in their dynamics, that to even try to communicate normally was like encountering aliens from another planet. Nearly everyone was, if not completely, than far beyond their comfort zone than they desired to be, and it showed.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder once more, and he turned to see Shiro looking at him, a small smile on his face.

“Keith, look. The dynamics of the city really do want to band together and find a way to fix this, but they can’t. After all this time, the hands of the alphas and betas don’t know how to reconcile themselves with the minds of the omegas.” The hand squeezed him as gently as the voice that spoke to him. “I think they need someone to help meet everyone halfway, don’t you, omega?”

_Our heart…it is the conciliator between the head and the hands._

Keith’s eyes widened, even as Shiro’s remained fixed on him. He quickly looked back and forth to everyone gathered, then back at Shiro. Shiro’s smile only widened.

“You...you’re…me? _I’m_ the heart of Zamyatin?!” He pointed to himself, blinking. “Are you insane, alpha!?”

“I’ve been accused of it on occasion.”

“Shiro, no, that’s not funny, I’m–” Keith’s heart began to pound. This was all too much, surely– “I barely just became Arch-Omega! And you…you’re so much better at talking and…and inspiring people than I could ever be! I can’t do this alone!”

“Maybe so. But I can only do so much with my gifts.” Shiro leaned in, giving Keith a soft head bump, his voice quiet and beautiful. “You know both sides like I do, and you have the benefit of being both the one who succeeds the Arch-Omega…and the one willing to take on the burden of the alphas and betas, without a second thought.

“Shiro…” Keith closed his eyes. “Do you really think so? Do you really think I’m ready…that everyone else is ready?”

“I think…” Shiro paused. “You were always ready. It just wasn’t time for it to happen. But right here, right now…with the promise of a new start, I know you can do it.” He leaned in further, giving Keith a peck on his unblemished cheek. “And I promise, you won’t be alone. I’ll be right behind you if you ever need me.”

Keith opened his eyes again, staring into Shiro’s eyes and searching as the dobosh passed. He didn’t know if he could do it. For all he knew, he could fail, and the fires would start anew, burning what was left of him and the city with it. Yet as Shiro looked at him with his kind smile, and full, bright grey eyes that no longer carried in them the burning ring of impure quintessence–he saw nothing in there but pride and certainty. Shiro really thought Keith was the one to bring the equality he had preached to the alphas and betas of the Underground and to their children.

“…I’m scared.” Keith’s voice lowered to a hushed whisper as he grasped Shiro’s claws. “What if I fail? I’ll fail everyone if I do.”

“The fact you’re afraid is a good thing, Keith.” Shiro’s smile turned wry. “Only a fool is unafraid of a great task such as this. Just remember: patience yields focus, Keith, and with it you’ll always find your way forward.”

The air slowly left Keith’s mouth at this, exhaling into the sky as if just a small bit of the weight he carried was lifted. Perhaps, then, if Shiro truly believed it, then Keith could believe it was possible he might succeed as well. Maybe, one quintant in the future, he might even fully believe it himself. Until then, though. Until then Keith took a deep breath.

“You can do it. Go.”

Shiro’s final whisper to him as they separated was like a fresh morning breeze atop an alpine mountain, crisp and fine and invigorating to the soul in a manner that was impossible for Keith to describe except to say that it was love. He hoped he was like that to Shiro. He hoped Shiro might always be like that for him, until the end of his days.

“Be great...my omega.”

Finally, Keith let go of Shiro and turned towards the two delegations, who in turn stared at him as he began his approach. The alphas and betas were the hands, the dynamics of great physical strength, and of the normal sexuality and form, who refused to bend anymore. The omegas were the head, the intersexual masters of their domain who couldn’t fathom how to bow to the inevitable.

Slowly, Keith brought his hands out and grasped the alpha foreman’s hand with his left hand. Then, he grabbed Zethrid’s hand with his right, gently bringing them together and closer to one another. He then began folding the fingers together, one after another, until the alpha’s blackened, work-wrecked hand was intertwined together with Zethrid’s beefy, but clean and immaculate nieve, which unclenched involuntarily with the unexpected meshing of fingers. For good measure, as the two stared dumbfounded at their clasped hands, Keith ushered Pidge over the fold, her hands over theirs, before his hands enclosed around all three with a firm, sure hold.

Then, Keith took a deep breath and turned to the foreman, who stared back at him with a wide eye.

“Alpha 57291-E-2…no.” The eye widened as Keith stopped himself. “What’s your _real_ name?”

“I-I…” The alpha seemed shocked to hear such a request coming from the likes of Keith. After a dobosh of staring to see if he was dreaming–or perhaps he waited for Keith to rescind the question and return to calling him by his code–he responded. “Mitch. My name is Mitch, sir.”

Keith wondered if it was just him, but maybe the man seemed less reticent after responding. He gave Mitch a nod, before looking at Pidge–who simply grinned back at him–and finally Zethrid.

“We’ve all got a lot of work to do. I’m not going to pretend it will be easy. A lot of people have been hurt, and as a result of what’s happened with the Underground, a lot of things are going to need to change around here for us all to survive. But if we’re going to do this right, if we’re going to make Zamyatin better than before, we will have to do this together–and not in the way that we did it before.”

He’d made a vow to not give into his ignorance again. Whatever was to happen, he would fulfill the promise Shiro had made, or try to until the day he died. As he felt Shiro smiling at him from behind, Keith continued, shaking everyone’s hands gently.

“This time…instead of being defined by our dynamics, let’s instead be defined as brothers, and equals, as _human beings_. Will you and those who come to you all join me to make that happen in our lifetimes?”

Soon enough, a shadow of determination passed through Mitch’s face, and he nodded. Pidge, who hadn’t stopped grinning the entire time, nodded emphatically at Keith’s question. Zethrid was the most reluctant; she looked at Keith, then at Shiro, then back, eyes scrutinizing the whole time. Finally, though, she straightened up, jaw tight and chin up. Whatever misgivings she might have had, especially given her normal temperament, were clearly being pushed aside, even if only for his sake.

“If this path is your will, my Arch-Omega, then it shall be done. Simply lead, and the Ministry of Order will follow!”

It was the best he could ask for from Zethrid. That only several vargas ago she was ready to smack him with a baton was a sign of just how fast things were moving. He could imagine how overwhelmed Zethrid was; even as Keith tried to keep his cool, he was afraid that he would screw it all up somehow, that he’d end up like Zarkon and the cycle would simply start back up. And then, just like with the End Tick–

_Patience yields focus._

Keith closed his eyes for a dobosh, letting the words sink into his psyche. He then looked on the masses, who all now massed around the intersection of the Alcázar with wide eyes. On the corners of the great congregation, he could see small streams of omega survivors coming in, their scents slowly changing from holding undertones of fear, to confusion, to simply curiosity as to what in the world was happening. In that dobosh, there was no fighting, no violence, no fear, as everyone regarded one another and the scene in front of the Alcázar. It was almost as if in that moment dynamic really didn’t matter. The moment would pass, no doubt–but it was a start, and further than they had been a varga before.

He looked back at those whose hands he held in his grasp. They were all looking at him expectantly, along with the thousands gathered beneath the bright, golden sun that shined on the silent steel city. He then looked to Krolia, who looked so immensely proud of him, for reasons he still could not fathom–perhaps he might gain the answer to that in time, as well. At last Keith turned to look one more time at Shiro, whose lone hand was clasping his bare chest as he nodded encouragingly at his actions. His eyes were filled with such adoration, such hope, that Keith could not help but be filled with those same emotions. Shiro was his alpha, even if it was unsaid; he would always have Keith’s back, no matter what.

“…All right.” The new Arch-Omega turned back towards the others gathered around. “Let’s start, then, all together.”

Thus, as Keith led the leaders of the alphas, the betas, and the omegas into the Alcázar, he could feel himself slide into the role as easily as a pair of slippers. The way forward was just ahead. Indeed, it was not the true end of the city, as all had thought would happen, as the witch and false Shiro had tried to make happen through death and despair. Instead, it was something else, something that offered more freedom to those who seized it with head, hands, and most importantly, heart wide open.

It was a new possibility, a new equality–a new humanity.

It was a new day and a new era of rebirth for the world and those living on it.

It was, in short,

**THE**

**B E G I N N I N G.**


End file.
